International waters
by Marjorie Nescio
Summary: The innocent Queen is about to be executed for killing her husband when she is rescued by her friend Lord Andre Sadique. He is a smiling villain, but Her Majesty is unaware of his dark side.
1. Introduction

I'm glad you're interested in this story. Perhaps the words ´smiling villain´ from the summary were to your liking?

_International waters_ is told from the point of view of an original character from Captain Weirdo's _The poisoned crown._ In this story King Rupert proved to be murdered. His widow was accused of the foul deed, arrested and trailed. ####### spoiler alert ######### Joe found out that a friend to the royal family, Lord Andre Sadique, had killed the King and ´all's well that ends well´.

What if, I thought, Joe had _not_ proven his Queen innocent? She would be found guilty but how to punish her? Death penalty doesn't exist in Europe but in this case it might be restored: just think of the rage among the general population upon hearing that a murderous bitch had been ruling them, smiling angelically and fooling them all. The evidence was a shame, the trial a fraud and there must be more than a handful of people who believed in the Queen's innocence. But when the beast roars, the voice of reason is not heard: **she must die!**

Andre has his Queen kidnapped shortly before the execution to be brought to his yacht and that is when my story begins. In case you read _The poisoned crown_ you first might want to read below notes to find out about the alterations I made.

If not: turn the page to find out how and with whom Andre spent his time right after the kidnapping.

Notes

Upon re-reading _The poisoned crown_ I discovered that my recollection of events was different from what actually happened. I stuck to what _I _remembered to be true. Therefore _my_ murderer is very wealthy and the Queen and Joe weren't lovers. Captain Weirdo made the villain blond. Princess Diaries being a film, I couldn't resist picturing which actor could play the villain. I ended up with tall bald Frank Langella. ;) For my story it is unimportant, but as far as I am concerned, there wasn't a court-jury (oh horror!) nor a Queen crying in court.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

´Are you going back to your estate?´ Mabrey asked as we stood on the courtyard of the House of Justice.

It was eerily quiet then as if history, after the events of that day, was taking a nap.

I told Mabrey I would stay in town, just in case.

´You're right! She'll be caught and dragged back here. Are you staying in your town house?´

I informed the viscount that I would spend the night (the third in succession) at the De Mouy hotel, explaining that my town house was closed since the butler was already aboard my yacht. Mabrey decided to book a room there too.

On our way to the hotel, which was a ten minutes walk away, we passed several crowded cafés.

Even a person who'd only arrived in Genovia that day and had not followed the news for weeks, would have noticed that something was going on. People were tense, agitated, angry and they expressed themselves noisily. Mabrey's mood, instead of growing worse, improved during our walk.

We saw a man using violence on a wall of a 17th century town house. He was cheered on by a dozen bystanders. Mabrey inquired (in a friendly, interested way) what he was doing. The man gestured us to have a look at a slightly damaged plaque. It said: _The Bronstein museum was opened on 17 April 1978 by Her Maiestv Oueen Clarissc._

´I'm gonna wipe the bitch's name out, that's what I'll do!´

´Well said!´ Mabrey spontaneously replied through the bystanders': ´Yeah!´ The viscount carefully avoided looking at me. Knowing me to be a friend of the royal family, he must have realised that he couldn't bully me into speaking ill of the Queen.

From an alley came a group of students singing brand new lines to a popular song. The words ´la bien aimé Maryse´ had been replaced by ´la saleté Clarisse´. It brought a bright smile to Mabrey's face. As we walked away, the song seemed to be picked up by an entire chorus.

I must say that the spontaneous rage among the population shocked me. I had set something in motion and although I had no plans to stop it then, I realised that if I _wanted_ to do so, it might not be easy.

Her Majesty, who'd devoted her life to the welfare and prosperity of her people, was called names and her subjects regarded her with hatred: the majority of the population believed her to have killed her husband, King Rupert.

We had gathered in the House of Justice's courtyard to see her executed.

If it wasn't for _me_, the Queen would still have been respected and beloved.

She'd soon find that she had only _one_ friend left in the world.

Me.

I am Lord Sadique, Andre for my relatives and friends.

The things I have done in my lifetime might very well cause me nightmares. Nothing ever disturbed my sleep though until during the third night at the De Mouy my subconscious brought me back to the courtroom of the House of Justice to watch _her_. Everything was exactly as it had been in reality. There were no fantastic things to reveal it was but a dream.

I _knew_ it would result in a conviction even before she was arrested. All the world's a stage. And I was the director, designer, producer and if that wasn't enough, I also was a supporting actor. I was in control.

But I had not been prepared to see the look on the leading lady's face after the head of the tribunal shouted: ´Guilty!´

...

...

Author's note: in the coming chapter a man in black (now who can that be?) is being discussed and Andre receives a call from Prime Minister Motaz. Andre recalls the beginning of his friendship with King Rupert, as well as meeting his amazing Queen. Just click 'next ' to learn all about it...


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

It was five o'clock in the morning when I woke up from my nightmare. Instead of trying to get some sleep again, I turned on the TV.

There wasn't a channel that didn't offer repetition: the previous evening, around the time I'd ordered dessert, the Queen had been spotted in Spain, but when the police arrived to arrest her, the bird was flown. Her current whereabouts were unknown.

Genovia 1 showed old footage: King Rupert opening a school, King Rupert inspecting the troops, King Rupert greeting his subjects from a balcony. The good King Rupert. May he rest in peace.

OoOoOoO

Many years ago on a golf-course in Scotland, I was walking underneath a tree when a child's voice said: ´Boo!´

Looking up I saw a boy. I greeted him and he came down with the ease of a squirrel. We had a pleasant chat. The boy seemed familiar to me, but I didn't recognise him for who he was: prince Philippe. I lived abroad then and in South America the local newspapers don't tend to show a lot of pictures of European royalty. Apart from that one just doesn't expect a Genovian prince in a Scottish tree. It wasn't until the child's father and brother appeared that I realised who the boy was. Both father and sons grew a liking to me and I to them.

It seems a strange thing to say for me of all people, but I miss Rupert, I really do. During the Queen's trial it seemed that _everyone_ missed him terribly. To my astonishment people wore T-shirts with his picture on it and he was spoken of in such terms that it seemed as if the Queen had deprived the country of a hero.

OoOoOoO

The previous evening, upon entering the hotel's dining-hall, Viscount Mabrey had made a point of telling me, in a rather loud voice, that _they would get her_.

Cameras of any kind had been forbidden at the courtyard and only one journalist – a radio reporter – had been allowed there. It was not strange that Mabrey's remark triggered the other guests, who'd recognised us, fortunate witnesses, to question us about The Escape.

Someone asked if it was known who'd arranged for the Queen to be kidnapped. The Viscount spat that he wouldn't be surprised if _that idiot Romero_ had something to do with it.

´Mr Romero is the Queen's Head of Security,´ I explained for the bystanders' benefit.

´Ah!´ a woman exclaimed, ´Was he wearing black clothes? _Was he, was he_?´

´He always does madam,´ I admitted.

´Oh! Than it must have been him! You know, the man clad in black who tried to reach her, when she was brought onto the courtyard!´

Not all dinner guests liked the subject: an elderly woman was crying silent tears. Her husband tried to comfort her. Sitting near them, I overheard their soft conversation.

´She's safe now,´ the man said, ´and should they find her, she will not be ki- executed, the European Union will not allow it.´

It made his wife feel a little better, but when she looked up, she met Mabrey's hostile glare.

´I'm not hungry Yves, let's go,´ she whispered.

The couple left.

The viscount picked up the evening paper he'd taken from the lobby. The paper's main article was accompanied by a courtroom picture. Mabrey, that disgusting swine, grinned when he showed me the front page. He told me that he would buy the original photo _to place it on his bedside table. _The very picture that would later on plague me in my sleep, _aroused_ _him_.

Mabrey rose and turned the paper (with the huge headline **FUGITIVE!**) around so the other guests could enjoy themselves also.

´HANDCUFFED!´ he cried in that booming voice of his.

´And she _can't_ believe it. She can't believe that JUSTICE PREVAILED!´

People uttered their agreement.

´I _never_ trusted that woman. She lured her husband into giving her power, but the King - ´

He looked around.

´May he rest in peace,´ the bystanders gravely replied.

´He soon will!´ Mabrey promised them.

They cheered.

´He will be revenged! She killed him, SHE WILL PAY FOR IT.´

For a moment Mabrey's voice echoed in the room. Then it was replaced by applause.

OoOoOoO

A swine is a useful animal. And since there's nothing wrong with Mabrey's table manners, I had breakfast with him the next morning. He too had seen the news and he loathed the incompetent police force for several minutes before entering another subject.

´What are _your_ plans Sadique? Will you stay here until she's caught?´

I replied that as long as the Queen was a fugitive, there was no point in me staying in Pyrus.

´So you'll go to your boat?´

I nodded.

´I would have left the day before yesterday if it wasn't for the trial.´

´Tell me Sadique, do you _still_ believe her to be innocent?´

I eyed him. When the silence almost make him speak again, I answered his question.

´Yes, I do.´

He shook his head and sighed dramatically.

´I know you were her friend. But you were foremost _his_ friend. The _King's_ friend. Remember that Sadique.´

I replied by putting some marmalade on my toast.

OoOoOoO

Perhaps it was because the King had to pay attention to two very different boys on their father/son outing in Scotland that he made use of my company. _He_ would go fishing with Pierre, and _I_ would play soccer with Philippe nearby. It didn't mean that he was a careless father: my uncle was in His Majesty's inner circle so from the King's point of view, he knew me already.

We stayed in touch and for the next couple of years I hosted the three male Renaldis at my property in the county of Cork, Ireland, during the princes' spring holiday.

When my uncle became ill, I returned to Genovia to live in the Sadique mansion. My bond with the King, who visited his dying friend as often as he could, became stronger, much to my uncle's pleasure.

After my uncle's death I inherited not only his title, but the privileged position of friend to the King as well.

Soon afterwards I first visited the Castle.

I expected the Queen, who I'd never met, to be merely a pretty face and a loving mother who didn't have what it took to keep her husband interested. I had found out by accident that His Majesty used part of his quality time with his sons to sleep around.

I can't say that I had moral objections to his infidelity. In those days my friend was as discrete as could be and although most men would love being married to a woman fifteen years their junior, I reasoned that the intelligent Rupert was caught in a love-less marriage to a fashion doll.

I could not have been _more_ wrong.

OoOoOoO

One of the guests asked Mabrey about the Queen's motive to kill His Majesty. Mabrey couldn't nor didn't tell more than what had been said at the trial but he brought it with a flourish. His many listeners neglected their breakfast. I suppose they needed to be reassured: there's something pure and innocent about Queen Clarisse and it was a hard blow to have her found guilty of the worst of crimes.

On the other hand: Genovia was a _just_ society with an _incorruptible_ legal system. With an MP (a nobleman no less) speaking of the Queen as of a horrid creature his audience came to favour the idea of living in a fair Genovia _above_ the idea of having an angelic Queen. Queens are disposable, Justice is not.

After breakfast I went to the hotel's library to study the papers. Many of them – the international papers included - had Mabrey's favourite picture on their front page. Most foreign comments focused on the illegally demanded death penalty and stated that should the Queen be caught, she ought to be imprisoned, not executed.

Interesting isn't it? The papers should have focused on trial and proof. Instead they wondered whether a Queen could be sent to jail or whether she'd better be locked away in a private residence as had been the case during the trial.

OoOoOoO

After digesting the news I walked to a book store. A journalist approached me to collect a few lines. I simply looked stricken and told her: ´No comment´.

While I was in Pyrus's ABC my cell phone made soft peeps. The store's nearby emergency exit was opened a little and I stepped outside to find myself in a walled alley which was used as an ashtray by the shop's employees. I put down my loaded basket.

´Prime Minister, thank you for returning my call. How are you?´

´Lord Sadique. I am afraid I don't know how I am.´

´You've fought well.´

´Not well enough,´ Motaz groaned, ´If it wasn't for the kidnappers... It pains me to think what would have happened.´

´I know,´ I told him, ´I keep reassuring myself that she is safe.´

He sighed heavily.

´Have you read the papers?´ he asked, ´Did you see the cartoon in _Genovian Daily_?´

I _had_. It showed hooded men who carried off with a viciously grinning cobra who had the Queen's face. With gall dripping from nearly every Genovian paper, I was a little surprised that the Prime Minister mentioned the cartoon.

Mr Motaz didn't wait for a reply:

´People were trying to tore down her statue in the park! Merde!´

All this I had not orchestrated. The audience was now participating in the play about the fallen angel.

´Andre?´

´I'm sorry Sebastian, I _have_ seen angry people but I had no idea...´

´It's horrible. How could they even _think_ that _she_, _she_ of all people would have...´

I knew all about making people think the unthinkable.

´They will come to their senses, they _must_,´ I said.

´I'm not sure Andre. Had anyone told me half a year ago that the Queen would be arrested and convicted for murder, I would have laughed in his face. Lord knows what the future will bring.´

In fact, _this_ Lord could make a few educated guesses. I asked Motaz what he planned to do.

´Had she been killed, I would have resigned,´ he replied.

That was just the sort of noble thing for him to do. I sensed a _but_ though.

´As it is now, it seems better to stay on the job. If she's caught, she'll need a friend. And if I leave now... there's enough instability as it is.´

´I planned to ask you: have you spoken to her son?´

´I have. He will soon leave for Pyrus.´

´His presence will reassure Genovia. His physical resemblance to His Majesty is striking.´

´I hope he will agree to become a regent until his niece can rule.´

´I can give him a call if you like, warm him to the idea.´

´I would appreciate that Andre. You being a friend of the royal family will make him listen to you.´

He hesitated for a moment.

´I've read that you will soon be off for your yacht?´

I figured that Motaz would have prefered me to stay in Pyrus, the better to encourage Pierre.

´I will. But call me any time you want to. And if possible, please keep me informed...´

The Prime Minister promised me that he would. There was some noise in the background and Motaz told me he had to leave for the House of Parliament. We wished each other strength and I re-entered the store.

OoOoOoO

For Motaz to continue as Prime Minister was fine with me: after acting as Her Majesty's attorney ("this charge is utterly spurious" he'd said, and rightly so), his position was weak and he wouldn't survive without Parliament's support. Von Troken and his fellow cockroaches would soon make him realise just how battered he was.

Asking prince Pierre to become a regent made sense. Making him accept regency would not be easy: Pierre lacked his father's self confidence. There weren't many people who noticed that: they make themselves look up to royalty and Pierre, tall, broad shouldered, surely _looked_ royal. He _looked_ like his father so people believed him _to be_ like his father. Unfortunately he'd inherited his paternal grandmother's laziness and dislike of conflicts.

With those character traits, I wonder whether his decision to join the church was really inspired by a _calling_. I don't say he wasn't religious, but what's wrong with leading a country, saying a prayer and continue to rule again?

My dear Clarisse supported her eldest son. She defended him against Rupert's rage and Philippe's anger. During the trial she had to go through it again: the prosecutor reasoned that the disagreement between her and her husband about their son's choice had fuelled her desire to kill him. I recall what she said: "Pierre is making a fabulous priest and will no doubt make a tremendous difference in the spiritual life of his people."

Clarisse.

The first time I saw her she descended a staircase. Standing at a distance I could very well think her to be a fashion doll. But as she approached her grace and elegance made that description an insult. Her smile (meant for her husband, who stood next to me) added to her loveliness. When she spoke, I started to think my friend to be a fool.

Queen Clarisse proved to be very intelligent, witty, utterly charming. By the end of the evening I _knew_ my friend was an idiot. Not to fall for the amazing woman he could call his was his greatest flaw.

I don't say that _had_ he been a loving and faithful husband, he wouldn't have met the same ending.

Nor do I say that _had_ Clarisse revenged his behaviour by starting an affair with me, Rupert would still be alive.

I would have wanted her for myself alone anyway.

...

...

Author's note: in the coming chapter the Queen will awake aboard Lord Sadique's yacht. Andre recalls a childhood incident that partly shaped him into the man he became.


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

When I arrived aboard Triple V, I was greeted by Jean Leclerc and captain Harald Koss.

Knowing Leclerc the way I did, it was easy to see that he was anxious, but to the captain he must have appeared to be the typical aloof butler.

´All is well Leclerc?´ I asked.

´All is well My Lord,´ he replied.

´She's a fine ship sir,´ the captain contributed.

The crew had gathered in their dining room to meet me. We had lunch together. I'd assigned the captain and the first officer myself and I'd made a selection of the applicants for the remaining crew. I had left it to Leclerc to make the final choice. He had done a good job.

When – some forty minutes later on - Leclerc and I entered my suite, I took of my jacket and enjoyed the sea-view for a few moments, before I asked whether my guest was safe.

´She _is_ sir. And may I say how proud I am of you.´

´She's innocent. I couldn't have her -´

I swallowed. Leclerc stared at me in awe.

´You must have been puzzled when you found the envelop. Have you followed the instructions?´

Leclerc replied that he had.

´And no one knows?´

´No one knows My Lord.´

OoOoOoO

After Leclerc left I made sure that the phone wasn't off the hook.

I checked my watch. The sedative should have lost its working by now.

Inhaling deeply I poured myself a drink.

I didn't take out my best bottle of cognac, but I surely deserved the second best.

Walking to a mirror above a fire place I raised my glass in salute.

Planning it all had been intellectually stimulating and it had given me joy for months, nay: years.

No one in his right mind should have believed that the gentle and noble Queen Clarisse had killed her husband, but I had made sure that no one _was_ in his right mind: the judges were bribed, the officer leading the _investigation_ was one of my eager puppets and I had the means to get the media to write or say what I wanted them to.

Inhaling the drink's scent it occurred to me that I had turned a pear kingdom into a banana republic.

Not that _that_ had been my objective.

I took a sip.

The cognac tasted _just_ fine.

Waiting for a call, I stared into the mirror and tried to discover the young Andre who had turned into me.

OoOoOoO

At age six I lived at the family estate with my parents, uncle and grandparents. On a beautiful summer's day I accidentally kicked my ball into a greenhouse. I ran after it and I wasn't surprised when the cook came out shouting and raising his hands, ready to teach a lesson to the bastard who'd covered his strawberry plants with glass. The moment he realised that his Lord's grandson was responsible, he started laughing on the wrong side of his face. The hand that would have hit me had I been someone else, chucked me under my chin.

´It was an accident wasn't it young master?´ he said.

Of course it was, and had he not spoken _first_ I would already have apologised. I still meant to do so. But he went even further, stating that the greenhouse might not be situated at the best possible spot.

And _that_ line turned my apologies into a lie. We both knew that there was a huge lawn meant to play cricket, tennis or football and that my grandmother, whose flower greenhouse was next to the cook's fruit and vegetable greenhouse, always said that the only balls allowed in the vicinity of the glasshouses were to be kept inside ones pants. I'd thought that was weird, for how could you keep a football in your trousers' pocket? Still, near the greenhouses I should have kept it in my hands rather than play with it.

Both the cook and myself knew I'd broken a rule and yet he didn't act that way.

I disliked him for his toadyism.

I disrespected him for measuring by two standards.

And I learned a lesson I never forgot: bad things can become _un-bad_ things when done by the right person.

OoOoOoO

I nodded at my reflection and turned around. Through an open window the smell of the sea penetrated the room. The scent of the future.

I checked my watch again.

As by my instructions Leclerc had left a letter in Clarisse's room:

_My dear,_

_You are safe aboard Triple V. No one will harm you._

_Next to the small green light on the wall, you'll find a wardrobe and a bathroom._

_If you are up to it, please give me a call (the phone is in the sitting room, just dial 1)._

_Yours,_

_Andre_

There was no denying that I was nervous.

It is a sensation I seldom experience.

Another feeling that is rare to me is joy. Little over two hours after I'd boarded my yacht, it was _that_ feeling which overwhelmed me as I stepped into Clarisse's sitting room, after a knock that went unanswered.

She was staring outside, unaware of my presence.

I closed the door, using a foot and an elbow. The sound made her turn around.

´Andre...,´ she whispered.

I was too exited to speak. Giving her a warm smile I walked to a coffee table to put down a tray the butler had prepared. She stepped toward me.

I regained my voice.

´Hello my dear.´

I kissed her hand.

´Why don't we sit down,´ I suggested, ´and I will pour us tea.´

She looked as lovely on the Louis XIV sofa as I had pictured.

For several minutes we just sat there. Her hands were wrapped around her cup.

Hot, warm, lukewarm.

I took the cup from her and watched her as she watched me place it on the coffee-table.

´How do you feel?´ I asked.

She swallowed.

´I am a little dizzy.´

I smiled reassuringly and asked her about the last thing she remembered.

´Seeing Michael,´ she whispered.

´I had my men kidnap you,´ I softly said.

And then this wonderful woman worried whether the Archbishop got injured in the process.

´No one was hurt my dear.´

I wouldn't say that a few bruises and a little amnesia equal _hurt_. Besides, the Archbishop surely wouldn't mind. At the courtyard he'd addressed several MPs but since Von Troken had followed in his trail his pleas to prevent the execution had fallen on deaf ears. When someone had approached him saying that Her Majesty liked to speak to him, he had immediately accompanied the man. Von Troken had smirked that _Her Murderess_ wanted to confess her sins. Little could he know that the small room in which the Archbishop was to await the Queen had a secret exit.

´Triple V is in international waters now. You are _safe_ my Queen.´

She stared at her seal ring and shook her head.

´You will _always_ be my Queen. And I _know_ that you are innocent.´

She inhaled deeply and searched my face.

I bent towards her and pressed my lips against her forehead.

´They would have... you saved my life,´ she managed.

´Well my dear, you _had_ promised to come and see my new yacht,´ I lightly replied, leaning back a little to look at her. Capturing her face in my hands, I used my thumbs to gently brush away her tears. She leant against me and let me hold her.

Joy.

...

...

Author's note: in the coming chapter the Queen worries and cries and Andre thinks back about murdering Rupert and he looks forward to a future with Clarisse.


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The motion of a ship normally makes me sleep a little longer than I'm used to, but knowing that _she_ was near made me wake up even earlier than when I was ashore. After going through my morning ritual, I checked the news via my laptop.

Yesterday afternoon Mr Motaz had denied that he would resign and the stock market had stabilized after that. The editorials begged prince Pierre to lead the country and they asked Genovia to look ahead, to the future.

The websites of the Genovian papers offered a platform for every Tom, Dick and Harry who had an opinion to share. The writings proved that the Queen's subjects were not done looking _back_.

I suppose that when people can hide themselves behind such nicknames as BigDick3, Gothgirl or SuperDude, they feel free to abandon rules of grammar as well as rules of decency.

_Damnd whore! Catch her hurt her KILL HER!_

_I dont getit. Why isnt she cought already?_

_I feel cheated by her! Acting as if she's perfect. I want the bitch shot! No: beaten first, then shot._

_They say they do everything to capture her. Right! I´m sure the government kidnapped her and she and Moron Motaz are laughing at us right now._

_I'm glad our prince don't look like his witch mother. _

_Drag that murderess to Pyrus's main square! Revenge!_

Rupert would turn in his tomb.

Carrying a tray with breakfast my butler had prepared, I knocked on Clarisse's door and when I didn't get a reaction, I walked into her sitting room, placing the tray on a small round dinner table.

I wondered if she had noticed that the room looked at lot like her room at the Castle: elegant, classic, warm, Clarisse.

Hearing the sound of running water, I checked my watch and decided to come back in half an hour.

Thirty minutes later on her food was still untouched. The tea-cosy _had_ been removed. I must have stood there for five minutes and yet she remained unaware of my presence. She was looking at the ocean, a tea-glass in her hands. When I addressed her, she turned around, startled.

´Andre.´

´Good morning. Did you sleep well?´

´I dreamt,´ she said, sitting down on a sofa after putting down her glass. She cleared her throat.

´What did you dream about Clarisse?´ I softly asked.

She shrugged.

´Philippe and Pierre were playing on a lawn. Bats dived toward me...´

She shook her head as if to forget something. I sat next to her.

´I walked in a maze for hours. I called out for Joseph. I could hear him cry out for me. He never reached me.´

Her left index finger drew circles on the sofa.

´Lord Thierry was there,´ she revealed, staring at her lap, ´he popped out of a tea-pot, shouting - ´

I pressed her hand.

She didn't need to explain. One of the guards in the House of Justice, a mister Joffre, had given an interview to Genovian Daily. He'd revealed to the world that he and his colleagues had placed a radio in front of the Queen's cell, so she'd could listen to Parliament's session. It hadn't been an act of kindness.

Interviewer

_How did you feel seeing her there?_

Mr Joffre

_It was infuriating_. _She was sitting on this bed as if she sat on her throne. I had to bring her food and water and she had the guts to thank me for it. Murderous bitch! I spat on the floor, just before her feet and left without a word. _

´When the Prime Minister suggested to have me locked away in the cottage, I reasoned that he would offer a lifetime in jail in case the Members of Parliament wouldn't agree...´

If Motaz had expected to start negotiations, he'd been mistaken. MP Thierry had screamed: ´DEATH!´ and his cry had been picked up, leading to Genovia's elite gathering on a courtyard.

Clarisse stared ahead. I tried to come up with another subject but _she_ spoke first.

´Do you think that Amelia... Sebastian told Parliament that he had talked to her and that she was sho - ´ She stopped in mid sentence.

_Shocked at finding her grandmother guilty_, that's how Motaz had phrased it. Guard Joffre had had something to say about it: _Only _then _the bitch showed some emotion: I'd swear there was a tear falling down her cheek_.

Clarisse was blinking.

´It's an attorney's phrase. She was shocked at the tribunal's _judgement. _That's what it means,´ I said.

I offered her my handkerchief. Her eyes briefly searched my face.

´I am absolutely sure of it,´ I told her.

She inhaled deeply to regain herself.

´I hope you weren't frightened when you woke up here?´

´At first I thought I was in jail. But the bed was too comfortable.´

´Did you think you were back at the Castle?´

She shook her head.

´The sheets smelled differently.´

My smart Clarisse. Even when she was drugged she noticed things.

Her remarks confirmed that I'd done the right thing concerning her wardrobe. I would have loved filling every closet with suits, dresses, skirts, cashmere sweaters. I might have started to collect clothes the moment I'd begun to plan the operation. But the point was that the kidnapping was supposed to be a spontaneous action. Clarisse _knew_ clothes. She'd would be able to tell when something was three years old. An alternative would have been to buy her a wardrobe befitting a Queen _after_ the start of the trial. It could be explained to _her_ by my fear that the ordeal would not end well.

The skirt Clarisse wore now was a little shorter than she was used to. Her long sleeved shirt emphasized her female curves.

´That colour looks good on you,´ I told her.

She bit her lower lip.

´I haven't even thanked you for that. Yesterday I barely noticed anything and -´

I hushed her.

´Think nothing of it. I wish I could have bought you more clothes. But it had to be done in a rush and I couldn't afford people nosing about: it might raise an investigator's suspicion.´

She nodded and I more or less expected her to continue about the clothes, but naturally she had others things on her mind.

´Have you spoken to anyone before you left?´ she asked, eyeing me, ´The Prime Minister? Joseph? Pierre?´

´I tried to call your son, but I couldn't reach him.´

Knowing His Royal Highness he'd probably been kneeling down for guidance while Genovia's elite tried to contact him.

´I _did_ speak to Mr Motaz though,´ I continued.

´Was he all right?´

My sweet Clarisse.

´He felt guilty for having failed you.´

She shook her head and I quickly continued: ´He plans to ask Pierre to become regent until your granddaughter can rule.´

She bit her lower lip and walked to a window.

She had her back at me and I admired her figure before walking toward her. She was using my handkerchief again.

´I'm sorry,´ she said, her voice trembling, ´I've been crying all night. I thought I had no tears left.´

She stepped closer to the window.

´I might ne- ver see Genovia a- gain,´ she softly and matter of factly said, ´My p- people might be cu- cursing me. P- Pierre and Am- Amelia...´

OoOoOoO

Being in the King's small inner circle, many condoled me after his departure. I'd solemnly listened to them, but no whispered ´Such a great loss for the country´ nor a ´How the princes will miss their dear father´ could _make mad the guilty_. Ghosts nor gods could bother me, for I believe in neither. Mortals couldn't punish me, for I'd committed the murder in the same style as I handle other challenges: without making errors. I wondered whether I would have felt disgusted by my own deed had I killed Rupert with my bare hands. Or with a gun or a knife. Poison is considered to be the weapon of either a woman or a sissy. People forget that it is perfection.

What's the point of making a show with a gun when there's a less dramatic and dangerous way to get what you want? Besides: at the last possible moment the victim might have turned around (´Andre?´) and what reply could I have made him? I didn't have hateful words to throw at him. I just wanted him dead.

My murder weapon was disguised as a herbal tonic which gave my sickly friend the energy he needed. No proof, no crime. No one suspected a thing and I never felt the need to fall apart, crying out my guilt. _Imagine that!_

OoOoOoO

Hearing my regal Clarisse stammer, the realisation of what I'd done to her hit me like a hammer. If ever I felt guilty, it was at that moment.

I turned my back at her and called the butler to order tea.

When I put the phone down, there was sweat on the handle. I allowed myself to wipe my brow with the back of my hand, figuring Clarisse, who still stared outside, wouldn't notice.

After a while I heard her say my name. Opening my eyes, I found her standing closer, a worried look on her beautiful face. My darling misinterpreted my signs of discomfort.

´Andre, please tell me that _you_ _can_ return to Genovia. _You're_ not wanted are you?´

I had to gain control of myself. I stepped toward her and captured her hands in mine.

´No one suspects me of involvement in your rescue my dear. I'm free to return home if I want to.´

And this lovely lady, who had just been spit out by her country after slaving for it for half a century was genuinely relieved at knowing that _I_ was not a fugitive. She was relieved for _my_ sake, not for _hers_. She kissed my cheek.

´Thank you Andre.´

She embraced me. I felt unworthy. But how long could that feeling last with _her_ holding _me_? I returned her embrace, placing a chaste kiss on her hair. I could have stood there for hours, but she had questions on her mind that needed answers. Stepping back a little, she asked me what my plans were.

´What are _yours_?´

She blinked and replied that she was not in a position to make plans.

I placed my hands on her shoulders and looked into her eyes.

´I'm yours to command,´ I emphasized, ´Do you want to go to the Indian Ocean? See Cape Horn? One word and a course will be laid.´

She shook her head and after I let go of her, she sat down.

´This is not temporarily Andre. Unless the mu-´

´You _are_ and will always _be_ my honoured guest and friend,´ I interrupted, squatting in front of her, ´And no matter how long it takes before Genovia comes to her senses again, my yacht is yours.´

The butler knocked on the door. I went to get the tray.

´Does anyone know where I am?´ she asked when I'd seated myself again.

I told her that for now her location was a secret.

She suggested that I'd reveal it to Joseph.

I had not yet expected her to say that, but I answered smoothly, saying that Joe would probably be watched closely.

´I feel that informing him now might be dangerous.´

´Joseph will _never_ betray -´

´No my dear, I _know_ that, it's just that people might think that your Head of Security is involved in your rescue. What if they arrest him?´

Her eyes widened and she shook her head.

´Honey or sugar?´ I continued.

Clarisse was deep in thought while we were drinking tea. When she put down her cup, hiding a yawn, I told her I would take my leave.

I kissed her hand and urged her to get some sleep.

´I fear you hardly got any last night,´ I said, ´and I hope that after getting some rest, you _will _be hungry.´

I glanced at the breakfast tray and picked it up to take it with me.

She tried a smile.

OoOoOoO

The first part of my scheme was executed to perfection.

The present part would be more challenging.

If Clarisse desired to see the Northern Light or watch the shores of South Africa, I would be happy to take her there.

I _did_ have plans of my own though.

I knew our destination.

Her bed.

...

...

Author's note: the coming chapter will bring a tale of Rupert's infidelity. The Queen talks about the events at the House of Justice's courtyard and she questions Andre about her rescue. Andre calls prince Pierre.


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

After first meeting my Queen I wondered whether she knew about her husband's infidelity. It wasn't something I could _ask_ her, nor did I feel free to bring up the subject with Rupert.

One night, while enjoying the local beverages (the two of us spent a long weekend in Scotland to play golf) we talked about my uncle.

´Dead for _five _years al_ready_... He _would_ have _loved_ it had you _tied the knot _you know,´ Rupert said. When he was drunk he started emphasizing words.

I didn't have to reply, for he continued: ´He was _hap_py when _I_ got married.´

He whirled his drink before adding: ´He liked my _bride_.´

´Of course he liked her,´ I contributed.

Rupert laughed, hitting his thigh with his free hand, ´_You_ like her be_cause_ she has a _brain_...´

I nodded.

'...the old _fox_ liked her _because_ he _thought_ she was a _puppet_ on a _string_.´

He roared with laughter, spilling some whisky.

´Your uncle had old fashioned ideas about _women_...´

He sighed.

´Each time he suggested I should get married,´ I revealed, ´he assured me that having a wife and children didn't mean I'd have to give up casual affairs.´

Rupert raised his glass.

´_Exactly!_´

´Well, as you can see,´ I replied, showing my hands (one of them wrapped around my glass), ´he _still_ couldn't tempt me.´

´You'll _marry_ Andre. Just like _me_ you need an _heir_. And for an _heir_ you need a _wife_. My parents chose _mine_, _you_ are a _free_ man.´

´I'd say Their Majesties chose well.´

´_Absolutely!_ Clarisse is a loving mother and a _perfect_ Queen. I'm _very_ fond of her. She's beautiful, elegant... _passionate_. _Every_ time I return _home_ I wonder why I seek pleasure _elsewhere_. She's like an _angel_. _Why_ hurt her?´

'She _knows_?´

He sighed and held out his glass.

´Fill me _up_.´

Naturally I obliged.

´One evening I was in this _hotel_ and I'd _called_ her, and this _woman_ I was with got out of the _bathroom_ asking who I'd _called_. I said I'd ordered _champagne_. And before I _knew_ it she'd _pressed_ the last dialled number _button_ to order bloody _strawberries_. It was a _direct _inter_na_tional line...´

He shook his head.

'She _appears_ to be so _collected_... When I got _home_ I experienced how _furious_ she can be.´

´I can't imagine her to be angry,´ I lied with the slurred speech of beginning drunkenness.

Rupert, who was three whiskies ahead of me, brought his glass to his nose before finding his lips.

´_Nor_ could I Andre, nor _could_ I.´

After another sip he said with an aggrieved expression: ´We've got a marriage of _convenience_, why would she ...´

´Right,´ I said, raising my glass, ´you live as brother and sister now so...´

He grinned.

´But she _knows!_´ I said, really stunned.

'She _likes_ me, she's _attracted_ to me and Lord knows _I'm_ attracted to _her_.´

I pointed an unsteady finger at him: ´But _if_ you're attracted to her, why -´

I made a gesture away from me.

'They just _come_ to me you know. They see a _King_, they want to _sleep_ with him. And I'm a _man_!´

He shrugged as if it was out of his control.

I wasn't surprised by Rupert's piteous excuse. He wasn't the first bastard to use it nor would he be the last.

But why Clarisse allowed him in her bed, was – despite Rupert's _explanation_ - a mystery to me.

I couldn't imagine Clarisse to get so drunk as to convide about her relationship with her husband, but luck was on my side: on the day of our return a paper published a picture of the house where Rupert and I had spent our Scottish weekend. The photo also showed a dark haired bosomy woman. The lines accompanying the picture read that Lord Sadique had a girlfriend.

A few days later on I had dinner at the Castle. Clarisse was charming and kind when talking to me, but she acted icily polite toward her husband. After dinner Rupert escaped to the stables to see how a filly was doing. Clarisse and I sat down near a fireplace.

´I'm sorry you got involved in a gossip Andre,´ Clarisse said.

Thinking I didn't understand her, she added: 'The picture of your _girlfriend... _Rupert actually entered the subject himself, saying that he was left to play golf while you had a romantic encounter. It was the other way round wasn't it?´

After I'd seen the picture I'd realised that when one of his bodyguards had whispered something in his ear, it hadn't been _The Prime Minister needs to speak to you Your Majesty_, but _Your guest has arrived sir_. At my friend's urging I had finished the round we'd only just started. Eighteen holes.

I replied her question by looking away.

´I thought so,´ she sadly said.

She rearranged some flowers on the coffee table in front of us.

´Had I known about his plan...´ I started.

´I'd never thought he'd use others to... I am sorry Andre.´

´Please don't be. _I_ am sorry that he hurt your feelings.´

Since meeting Clarisse, I compared every woman with _her_. Some were captivating beauties, but to _me_ none of them could hold a candle to the Queen of Genovia. They all lacked something: grace, poise, an angelic voice, wit, a brain. Many of the pretty faces I met throughout the years _did_ have something Clarisse would never have: the capability to be unfaithful.

After my Queen had become a widow she didn't treat me differently than before. At first I told myself that she just needed time. After all: when I would unexpectedly drop by for a visit, she would _never_, no matter how much reading and signing she had to do, refuse to see me. On the contrary, she'd greet me with a warm smile and a happy exclamation and she would take me into her gardens, or to her other favourite place: her library. My presence made her relax and laugh and I had reason to believe that she found me physically attractive.

I figured that we simply needed to spend time together, in private, away from the gossips at the Castle, away from the restraint Clarisse exercised on herself. The yacht I had commissioned would give us privacy in plenty.

The members of her senior staff that were closest to her, her aid and Joe, would certainly agree with me that Her Majesty needed a holiday. The three of us (possibly with the added voices of her sons) would persuade her to accept my invitation for a small cruise.

At first I believed that I would be able to overcome the objections Joe would raise on learning that he wasn't invited: my crew would consist of former navy seals, men trained to fight and protect. However, as I thought things over, it seemed very unlikely that the Head of Security would agree to such a scheme. Even the fact that I could claim lack of space (Triple V is a large yacht but she doesn't accommodate a lot of people) as another reason why the Queen's guards couldn't board the ship, would be waved away by Joe Romero: he would have his men sleep in a tender and camp in the engine room himself, just to be able to personally protect his Queen.

_He_ would tell her it was too dangerous for her to go on a holiday alone, _I_ would inform her about the marines and it would end in _her_ deciding that her guards were to stay at the Castle, while Joe would accompany us. With me only being her very close friend, _she_ wouldn't feel the need to create total privacy. _I_ on the other hand didn't want Joe's shadow to fall on us, just when I would be getting Clarisse in a romantic mood.

It was a challenge that left me puzzling for months.

OoOoOoO

On the day after her arrival aboard Triple V Clarisse had not said a lot, and the next day she was even less talkative. At dinner she ate like a sparrow. She was mourning the loss of a country.

I longed to see the lost look in her eyes replaced by a sparkle.

´Clarisse?´

She blinked and looked at me. Her mind may have been far-away, it had not been sleeping.

´When did you decide that I needed to be rescued?´ she initiated.

Her voice sounded hoarse. She took a sip of her water.

'Several days before the court's decision I feared that it might not end well,´ I slowly replied, ´I started making preparations then.´

´You didn't consult Joseph?´

´He was helping you in another way. Involving him would mean that he'd have less time to find evidence of your innocence.´

She nodded and swallowed hard.

'The guards who took me to and from the cell... Were they involved in the operation?´

´No they were not.´

It took a while before she continued.

'The sound of the waves against the ship is soothing, isn't it?´ she remarked.

I agreed with her and refilled her glass. She took it with her as she walked to a window.

´I've been surrounded by guards all my adult life and yet... _They_ didn't want to _protect_ me. It felt...´

In the silence that followed I walked next to her. She stared outside. _I_ didn't. Still holding her glass, her free hand caught the wrist of the other hand.

´Were you present at the court-yard Andre?´

´I was. I hoped to give you a look to reassure you but it was so crowded...´

´Crowds are creatures. I learned to sense their mood.´

She trailed a nail over the rim of her glass.

Shaking her head she continued: 'That crowd was hostile. I knew it the moment I heard it.´

´I wish I could say you were wrong my Queen,´ I replied.

She placed a hand on her throat as if she felt sick.

´Clarisse, are you all right?´

She inhaled deeply. I walked her to a sofa and took her glass from her so she could sit down.

´How did you rescue me?´ she asked, mesmerizingly smoothing her skirt so the fabric wouldn't crumble.

´I found a map of the House of Justice among my uncle's possessions. It proved that there were underground tunnels.´

´Oh!´

´Yes, _that's_ how you got out. ´

Clarisse knew that my uncle had been interested in Pyran architecture. I wouldn't need to remind her of that.

´After I found trustworthy men to free you, all that had to be done was making sure that you would be brought to a room giving access to the tunnel.´

´It can't have been as easy as you make it seem Andre. Was the Archbishop involved? Where did the tunnel lead to?´

'The Archbishop didn't know what would happen. My men took you into the tunnel and placed you in a case. You were brought to the harbour of Antiem by car for the tunnel wasn't _very_ long,´ I smiled.

My guess that Clarisse wouldn't be too curious about the episode when she'd been a parcel, proved right.

´Who got me out of the case? You?´

´No my dear. When you arrived here, I was still in Pyrus. I knew Leclerc would take good care of you.´

OoOoOoO

For nearly a week the days were exchangeable. Every morning when I stepped into her suite my heartbeat was accelerated. Would she be less depressed? Would she have eaten more than half a slice of toast? What would she wear?

Every morning I found her staring ahead, still as a statute.

I informed her about global news: an earthquake in Asia, an Italian minister involved in a scandal, a world record in athletics. Being a lady and a diplomat she made the appropriate replies but I sensed that she merely longed to hear about Genovia. The fact that I didn't bring the subject up must have made her conclude that she wouldn't like what I'd tell her. She didn't enter the topic.

After a cup of tea I'd take my leave, not to return until lunch.

By then she would have gained energy and she'd be more talkative.

She hoped the press wouldn't pester Amelia. She was glad that Mr Motaz had decided to remain Prime Minister and she hoped he'd be able to fight the MPs who would want to bring him down. She proudly smiled when I told her Pierre had accepted the regency and, moved by her sweet expression, I printed the newspaper picture of the prince being sworn in as regent. She gently touched his face and waved away the handkerchief I offered her.

'Look, there's Charlotte,´ she commented, blinking furiously.

'The photo doesn't show Joseph,´ she discovered.

I suggested that he was probably standing aside and I made a silly joke about one of her ladies-in-waiting, a baroness who might think herself capable of capturing the prince.

It seemed to me that my friend, knowing that Genovia had not fallen into Von Troken's hands, felt better and more energetic.

In the privacy of my sound-proof suite, I made a call to Pierre.

The prince told me that he was happy to talk to me.

After answering his questions about my yacht I inquired whether the Prime Minister was helping him to settle down.

He replied in the affirmative.

´Do you think I've made the right decision Andre?´

'To become a regent? Absolutely. Your mother would -´

´I'd rather have remained a priest. But Motaz begged me to rule.´

He sighed deeply.

´I reasoned that if it wasn't for me Amelia wouldn't have had to become a princess in the first place. It will not take long before she turns twenty-one.´

´Apart from that if you hadn't become a regent, _Von Troken_ would have ruled and you _know_ how your mother-´

´Yes, well, Von Troken has been remarkably supportive to me.´

I feigned surprise.

´I am glad that the Archbishop, who is a man of integrity, is no longer suspected of being a accomplice to the kidnapping,´ he declared.

´Is that how you call it?´

´How would _you_ call it Andre? There haven't been demands for a ransom, true. Perhaps I _too_ should call it an escape.´

I remained silent. It made him continue his trail of thought.

´I wish Philippe were here. How would _he_ have responded? I knew my brother well, but it's hard to imagine how he...´

´He would have called it a rescue,´ I said.

He sighed.

´A rescue... You know Andre, I just _can't_ picture that they would actually have gone through with it.´

'She _would_ have been executed Pierre. You would have _lost_ her.´

He started telling me about the remembrance service to honour his father that would be held that evening.

OoOoOoO

The editorials about the remembrance service said that it was understandable that the Archbishop had focused on the late King's _life_. The reader's letters stated that the bishop ought to have condemned the murderess to hell.

The papers re-published pictures of the King's widow and sons made during His Majesty's entombment. The princes were still allowed to look devastated but the Queen's sad eyes now proved her to be a skillful liar.

The song 'la saleté Clarisse' had been recorded and was making its way to the top of the charts.

Telling Clarisse all this would help her to realise that I was the only true friend she had left in the world.

But she was depressed as it was...

No, even _without_ informing her that her subjects regarded her to be the devil in disguise, I had my elegant lady where I wanted her: near me and with an ocean to separate us from intruders.

...

...

Author's note: the Queen's depression doesn't fade away just like that. Andre tells her to give in to her feelings.


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

I had seen Clarisse in mourning before and back then I had taken her mind away from the paper work she'd buried herself in, distracting her with recollections to make her smile and laugh.

It was different this time. She didn't have a country to govern, she didn't have relatives to comfort, there were no servants to instruct: in a way life _didn't _go on. It would take some time before I'd hear her rich throatily laughter again.

On the day after my arrival I'd left books on her coffee table and – about ten days later on – I inquired how she liked them. She admitted that she lacked the concentration to read.

´I just _sit_ here!´ she burst out walking to a window.

´I wake up tired, I have tea, suddenly it's time for lunch... I just sit and worry. I haven't even left this beautiful suite...´

I walked toward her.

´I... I don't know what to _do,_´ she said. ´I don't know what is _going on_. I realise you want to protect me, but...´

I stood behind her, my hands applying reassuring pressure on her shoulders.

She inhaled deeply.

´The fact that that is _necessary_ gives me nightmares,´ she admitted.

´They will get to their senses Clarisse.´

She shivered and with crossed arms placed her cool hands on mine. I was tempted to wrap an arm around her waist but I resisted.

´I wonder why he hates me this much and why.´

For a moment I didn't understand what she meant.

I, who loved her.

´What?´

She turned to look at me, taking a step backwards.

´This _Fierre_ who started all this, who made the newspaper mention _Rupert's _letter. What have I done to him?´

_You made me want you my dear._

Her left hand caught her right wrist.

´Joseph will find him,´ she said as she walked toward a chair.

´Let's hope Joe will not be caught by the police,´ I replied.

She shook her head.

´He won't,´ she whispered.

So far Joe was a free man indeed. I wondered whether that should change.

´I'm sorry Andre. I _am_ grateful you saved my life but... I...´

´You can't enjoy it yet,´ I finished her line, walking toward her.

She gave me a feeble smile. I kissed her hand and held it in mine.

´Perhaps you could show me your yacht?´ she suggested with forced cheerfulness.

I longed to know what she thought of my ship and I collected the ship's floor plans from my office to spread them on her dining table.

Her admiring nods as her index finger trailed the decks made me proud. After eloquently praising the yacht's lay out she said: ´Triple V doesn't exist on paper only. I am ready to be given a tour.´

I told her that I would show her around and gladly too, _after_ Triple V had shown her face in a port. The crew would then be allowed to visit the town and any suspicious journalist hanging around to question them wouldn't be the wiser. I added that after leaving the harbour I would inform my crew about her presence, which would enable her to roam the yacht just as she pleased. I didn't tell her that it would be many weeks before we'd make it for a port.

´You thought things over. As always,´ she replied with a small smile, tucking a lock of hair behind an ear.

I longed to see my confident Clarisse. When there was a knock on the door, I told Leclerc (who so far had been instructed not to enter her room) to come in. Clarisse was startled, but her Queenly demeanour was back in place in the blink of an eye. Not that she had been slouching or so, far from it. But with me, she allowed _Clarisse_ to appear. Leclerc, after putting down the tea tray, bowed and stared at Her Majesty. She'd met him at my mansion and she smiled at him, asking him how he was doing and thanking him for getting her out of the case.

´Your Majesty,´ my butler said, after he'd waved aside her thanks,´I am so _very_ happy and grateful that you are saved.´

Clarisse radiated loveliness and majesty as she sat there, chatting with him. It amused me that after I'd told Leclerc that he could leave, my butler looked at _her_ for confirmation. She gave him a smile and he left a happy man.

As Clarisse poured me tea, I told myself that ordering Leclerc to enter had been a sentimental and spontaneous action: not the kind of deed I normally take pride in. Still, Leclerc's presence had lifted Clarisse's spirits, which was exactly what I'd hoped would happen. And besides: the butler would have to enter her suite soon anyhow, to clean.

´Andre,´ she said, handing me a cup and saucer, ´I used the chemise I wore to -, oh, I forgot to tell you: that system in the wardrobe to pass through cleaned clothes is very practical -´

´I think so too, thank you. But you were talking about...?´

´Oh yes. I wore the chemise at night, but it is a little cold to sleep in and I wondered whether you would have a spare -´

OoOoOoO

Some years ago I hired a stylist to find me nice ties. Shortly afterwards I requested her to buy a Valentino dress for a god-daughter who turned eighteen. Being a milliardaire with a large acquaintance I have many god-daughters turning eighteen or twenty-one or getting married, or giving birth.

My stylist often bought several items in several colours and sizes, in case I hadn't yet decided what would look best. I always took care of returning the unwanted items myself and sometimes I didn't even bother to do so.

The day after the Queen's arrest, I contacted my stylist to buy two Chanel coat and skirts, a Givency dress, a Valentino suit and several shirts and turtle necks in various colours. It was a perfectly ordinary order.

Another stylist was told to buy undergarments and shoes. These were requests she'd gotten used to over the years. I made them after appearing in a gossip magazine with some or other lady, as had been the case a week prior to the arrest.

Stylist number three was specialised in perfumes and make-up (which I favoured my female acquaintance with). I hadn't ordered perfume this time. I could explain the toiletries in Clarisse's bathroom (every guest room had them), but when you have only a week or so to prepare for having a guest aboard your ship who will arrive without any luggage, you just _have_ to forget something to make it all the more believable. So no perfume nor her favourite shower lotion (which served another purpose: I didn't want feminine scents to alert the crew that I had a guest), no embroidery, no orchids to cherish, no slippers. No -

OoOoOoO

´Pyjamas!´

I managed _not_ to spill tea.

´I forgot py- How stupid of me! My dear why didn't you tell me before?´

´Oh Andre, don't blame yourself. You take care of me so well.´

For the first time since her arrival, there was a sparkle in her eyes as she fondly smiled at my embarrassment at having forgotten something. I relished it while effortlessly picturing her in my pyjama jacket.

OoOoOoO

On my way to my suite I carried the tea-tray to the kitchen. Leclerc was preparing the soup we would have at dinner. He told me how glad he was to be allowed to see my guest.

In a whisper he informed me that he'd managed to clean _her_ skirt, but that unfortunately her coat remained stained. So far he had not said a word about _execution day_ and its aftermath, but perhaps he now felt like a conspirator: he told me that he'd listened to the live radio report from the House of Justice's courtyard.

´My stomach was tight as a knot sir: there was a _howl_ coming from the crowd after the doors to the courtyard opened...´

He looked at me, as if to get a confirmation. I gravely nodded.

´And then people started shouting and the reporter said they were throwing _mud_ at her. I couldn't believe it. It was too outrageous. I felt... _lost._´

He wiped his hands on his pinafore.

´My lord, I have always served your family with pride, but I will follow you to hell itself now. I am honoured to - ´

I stopped him from continuing by shaking my head and raising a hand.

´It's all right Jean.´

The radio report had been broadcasted again and again and I too had eventually heard it.

_She holds her head high. I must give her that, _the journalist had informed Genovia.

Though a director can't always control everything, especially not with many nameless participants being involved, I felt responsible for the mud and the insults fired at my Queen.

What sort of a man would I be if I didn't?

It was in the past however and I wanted to move _ahead._ I needed her to accompany me and I decided to make her talk about the trial so she could start to get rid of her pain and begin a new life.

OoOoOoO

After we'd finished dinner Clarisse said that Charlotte would probably take care of Maurice.

´Pierre never liked pets,´ she reminded me.

We exchanged memories about her sons and she fondly mentioned how very different her two boys had been. I said something about a Christmas celebration at the Castle when Pierre and Philippe had had so much fun together and that made her think aloud about the plan she'd had to have her son and granddaughter meet for Christmas.

She fingered the rim of her water glass.

´Clarisse, the three of you will be together one day. And I'm sure that Pierre and Amelia have already spoken to each other. They will want to talk about their beloved mother and grandmother.´

´Will they?´

I reached out to touch her hand.

´Clarisse please! What are you telling yourself? That they will forget you?´

She bit her lower lip.

´What if they think that I...´

After clearing her throat she continued: ´will never return? They can't wait for me forever. It wouldn't be healthy.´

I walked around the table and squatted next to her, one hand resting on her chair's back.

´Listen to me: they love you. They'll miss you. Pierre will want the real murderer to be caught, so _you_ can come _home_.´

She started talking about the difficult position her son now found himself in.

I reminded her that he was an intelligent man who would know what course to pursue. And Sebastian would show him the way: ´Pierre will not be inactive.´

´I do hope he has addressed the staff. Making them understand nothing will change for them. Charlotte might have given him a hint.´

´You worry about others; what about how _you_ feel?´

Clarisse stared at the ceiling.

I touched her cheek to make her look at me. Her skin was silky.

´If you need to cry and rage: cry, rage.´

She made a throatily sound.

´Throw things. Break plates,´ I suggested.

´Seriously...´

´I mean it. Clarisse, you were so brave during the trial but I know how horrid it has been for you. You're locking away your feelings, that is not good.´

´Said the pot to the kettle.´

´True,´ I admitted with a smile, ´I don't tend to show certain feelings either. But _I_ am a Sunday child. I don't know how I would have acted had _I_ been falsely accused of a crime.´

´I want things to be the way they were,´ she softly said, shrugging apologetically at her own remark.

I rose and moved her chair backwards.

´I know my dear. I know.´

We went to sit near the fireplace. I picked up an Irving, hoping it would make her read something too, but she stared into the flames. I felt her glance at me occasionally.

´Andre?´

´Yes?´ I said, closing my book after finishing a line.

She turned toward me a little: ´Would you happen to have a note-pad I could use? For a diary?´

I smiled at her, glad she felt like writing.

´Absolutely! That's a good idea. I have squared paper mostly, if that's all right with you?´

She said it was just fine and she picked up an Austen to stare at the first page.

OoOoOoO

Later that evening I brought Clarisse writing materials and a pair of pyjamas. I handed her the former and placed the latter on a chair. Though I could find my way in her suite blindfolded, I didn't want to enter her bedroom unless it was as her lover.

_Soon_, I told myself, as I wished her good night, _soon_.

...

...

Author's note: in the coming chapter Andre will correct a mistake he made. Clarisse makes him tell her about Joseph and Andre reveals that Joe is wanted for having kidnapped her. Andre thinks back about Joe's behaviour at the House of Justice's courtyard. After making a call to the Prime Minister, Andre gets upset by one of Elsie Penworthy's articles.

Author's note (2): the letter mentioned by the Queen can be found in 'The poisoned crown', which story, as you may recall, inspired me to write 'International waters'. The letter was supposedly written by King Rupert, saying that he feared for his life. Von Troken was paid by the mysterious Fierre to hand the letter to a newspaper. With Von Troken being a major stockholder, the chief editor felt obliged to write an article asking the Crown and Parliament to start an investigation into the King's death.


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

I made a mistake.

Annoying as it was in itself, it was infuriating that I didn't realise it until the next morning when I was training in the gym.

It would take a few hours before I could join Clarisse to have morning tea with her and I completed my fitness program. After having a shower and dealing with my business affairs I made it for Clarisse's suite.

I found her reading. Finally.

After we'd settled ourselves at the small dinner table and she'd poured us tea, I corrected my mistake.

´Clarisse,´ I said after offering her some cookies which she declined, ´this morning I recalled something you said yesterday. I should have noticed, but you made a gesture and so I missed the importance of what you said...´

´A gesture?´

I imprisoned my right wrist with my left hand. Her gesture _had_ moved me, but the reason why I hadn't responded to what she'd said was that her words hadn't been new to me. It was about time that I acted as if they _were_.

She looked away and stirred her tea.

´What did I _say_?´ she asked.

´You said _Fierre who started all this_. Who's Fierre? And why do you think he is responsible?´

She explained what she knew, which didn't prove a lot: Joe had found out that _Rupert's_ whining letter had been sent to the Genovian Times by Von Troken and he'd made him reveal that a person called Fierre had sent _him_ the letter. Adolphus had not known who Fierre was though.

´I'm sorry that my cousin was involved in this Clarisse.´

She waved away my apologies.

´I too forgot to ask something,´ she said.

´I'm all ears,´ I said pleasantly.

´You mentioned that you hoped Joseph wouldn't be caught by the police. You've said something similar before. Is Joseph a _suspect_?´

I adjusted my tie.

´I need to know Andre.´

´Joe has disappeared. The police are looking for him: they believe he is behind your _kidnapping_.´

In one of her many innocent yet sensual gestures, she bit her lower lip.

´If those who support me believe that too, they will at least not be worried for me. That is a relief.´

I recalled Pierre's lack of anxiety for his mother's safety and I kissed Clarisse's hand. She smiled at me, her thoughts elsewhere.

´I hope _Joseph_ will reason that I _wasn't_ taken away by ill meaning people.´

´There haven't been demands for ransoms,´ I reassured her.

´Did Joseph disappear _before_ or _after_ being accused of kidnapping me?´

´_Before_,´ I truthfully replied, ´his disappearance fuelled the belief that he was involved.´

The story had unfolded itself: I hadn't even had to spread rumours about it.

´He must have had a good reason to act that way,´ Clarisse concluded.

Her choice of words was interesting: Joe, drugged as he was, had hardly been able to _act_.

I had ordered for Joe to be sedated but not because I disliked him. I'd simply needed a distraction.

Who will keep protecting his charge? A bodyguard will...

Romero was a usual suspect.

OoOoOoO

At the courtyard of the House of Justice, Joe, just like the Archbishop, had walked from one dignitary to another saying that the execution could not, should not, ought not take place.

I'd made sure to stay away from him but I watched him. He'd looked like a wounded panther. When he realised that he was talking to walls he focused on windows and doors.

As it happened a former employee of his who now worked as a guard at the House of Justice bumped into him. It's a small world.

Later on several witnesses stated that just after the Queen had briefly appeared on the gallery _the man in black_ had pressed a guard to take him inside and/or to bring him to Her Majesty.

It was so _logical_. And who would find out that the guard had been _paid_ to give the Queen's Head of Security access to the building?

The guard had played his part well: not only in bringing his former boss to a small quiet corridor (where they were both taken care of), but also in telling the keen investigators just what his unknown principal wanted them to find out.

The papers had covered his statement.

As for allowing a none-authorised person into the building, the guard had admitted that he'd made an error in doing so. He'd defended himself by saying that Romero had been very persuasive. He also pointed out that he'd not given in when the Head of Security had urged him to leave him alone.

The police had asked their key-witness whether he hadn't thought it was strange that the suspect knew exactly where to go. The guard had replied that looking back he realised that it was suspicious, but that at the time it seemed normal: he'd worked as a royal guard for years and Romero had _always_ known his way around buildings even if the Queen was only to stay there for a few minutes.

The guard had been a pawn, who'd never expected to end up with a bruise on his collar bone, a bleeding nose and a bad headache. Still, acting loyally toward his former boss, he couldn't imagine _Romero_ to have knocked him unconscious. When the police had informed him that a few metres from the spot where he had been found there was a secret passage which lead to the room where the Queen had met the Archbishop, he had reluctantly agreed that the suspect had needed to get rid of him.

And that is how Joe ended up being a wanted man.

OoOoOoO

´I'm sorry for not telling you before Clarisse. I didn't want to destroy your hope...´

´What do you mean?´

I glanced at her. Surely she understood?

´With Joe being on the run,´ I slowly explained, ´he will _not_ have the opportunity to continue his investigation.´

Smiling she shook her head: ´He will find a way.´

I took a sip of my tea, eager for another subject. Almost immediately one presented itself: ´Is that a _scratch_?´

I put down my cup. With a look I asked and with a nod I was given permission to touch her glasses, dangling on a chain in front of her bosom. On the left lens there was a scratch indeed.

´There must have been a pebble in the mud they threw at me. It doesn't bother me when I read.´

´It bothers _me_.´

She gently took over her spectacles again.

´I'm just glad I didn't leave them in the cell.´

I knew she couldn't do without books and it had therefore _not_ been an option to deprive her of the means to read them. So what I'd done was buy several pairs of glasses at a chemist's _just in case the pair my optician had made me would fall into the ocean or I would need other lenses._ As for now, I saw no reason to tell her about it.

She asked me which day it was.

´I wanted to write down the date in the notebook you gave me and -´

She made a gesture as if it didn't matter that she'd lost track of time but I sensed that she was upset by it. I revealed the date. She got up and walked to the desk behind the fire place to get her journal. I watched her go and return, relishing her bearing and the sway of her hips. Perhaps because of my encouraging look she removed the cap of her pen with a flourish. By the time she placed a dot behind the date she looked sad.

´What is it Clarisse?´

´I never thought I'd miss signing documents.´

´You _will_ have to do such tedious work again. I'm sure of it. They will -´

´Get to their senses?´ she said.

I briefly covered her hand with mine.

´What is going on in Genovia Andre?´

Her determined tone surprised me. While she eyed me I pretended to think about what I could tell her. After a moment I hesitatingly mentioned that Pierre would visit the provinces. Relief showed in her eyes and she smiled warmly.

´Good! The bond between Genovia and House Renaldi should be clear to everyone. They will love to see him. And _he_ will understand that it is all about the _people_ and not about Parliament.´

Shaking her head she added: ´It must be painful for Pierre to have to face that bunch.´

She elegantly poured another cup of tea, blissfully unaware of the purifications being executed in her beloved country.

OoOoOoO

Back in my office I called the Prime Minister. After the socially required small talk (_How are your wife and daughter_ versus _Are you_ _enjoying your trip_) Mr Motaz told me that he was relieved to speak to _a like minded Genovian_. I asked how the prince was doing. Motaz took a moment before he answered me.

´He wants to serve Genovia.´

I remained silent.

´And I'm grateful that he became a regent,´ Motaz continued.

´I wasn't able to reach him until _after_ he'd agreed to rule,´ I said, ´It can't have been easy to persuade him.´

´I wasn't the only one talking to him. Mabrey and your cousin contacted him also. His Royal Highness is glad for their support. He told me he'd expected Parliament to be a snake pit, but that he's pleasantly surprised it isn't. Do you know _certain_ MPs talked him into cancelling the Queen's anti-drug law?´

Indeed I did. Anticipating the government's decision the coastal patrols had already lessened: I'd made a nice profit as it was. And so had _certain_ MPs.

´According to His Royal Highness they will soon present a better plan... If you ask _me_ the prince is too trustful. When it comes to _some_ people that is...´

´My cousin was rather... outspoken when he was interviewed at the courtyard. Has the prince not questioned him about that?´

Motaz sighed.

´I don't know Andre. Perhaps he's not aware of it: the Queen's staff might shield him from it. The people _continue_ to curse her and they sing about her as if she's the devil incarnated, but at the Castle and at the House of Parliament she's not mentioned. It's as if...´

His voice faltered. He cleared his throat.

´I'm sorry. It's as if she's... Have you spoken to Miss Kutaway?´

´Not really.´

´She too believes Her Majesty is innocent, and she's getting isolated as a result, can you imagine?´

´What? How can that be? The prince surely -´

´He is very...,´ Motaz interrupted, ´I mean rather...´

´Thoughtful?´ I suggested.

´Let's call it that. He thinks and listens but he doesn't ... He hasn't ... It pains me.´

Silence.

´Perhaps I'm impatient,´ Motaz sighed, ´My wife keeps telling me that the prince will set things right...´

´I will try to contact him again Sebastian. Now there's something else I wanted to ask you. I read that Joe Romero is wanted for questioning.´

´He is. There isn't any evidence that he was involved, apart from the fact that he disappeared and that it seems logical that he would have saved her. But Lord knows that in _Genovia_ you don't need evidence to convict someone...´

´I know,´ I solemnly agreed, ´Have you heard of him?´

´Not a word and nor have others. Even Charlotte claims he hasn't contacted her. Frankly Andre, I _do_ believe that he saved her. It's what keeps me going really. He will protect her.´

´He's done his utmost best to do so.´

´That Penworthy bitch wrote that - ´

Motaz stopped speaking and I heard a distant voice talk to him.

´I'm sorry Andre. I have to go. Call me again soon.´

I promised him that I would.

OoOoOoO

Bitch? Motaz wasn't a man to curse.

I made a connection with the internet and entered a search string.

This is what the bitch wrote:

_My sources tell me that Joe Romero was a man of INTEGRITY._

_So why did he defend a woman who DIDN'T DESERVE being defended?_

_I've given this a lot of thought dear readers, and I found the ONE REASON that could have made an honourable man like Joe Romero forget what is right and just._

_We all came to learn that angels can turn into DEVILS and when devils have CONSIDERABLE CHARMS..._

_Are you with me? I know this will not come as a shock to you: she must have given her guard her body to keep her safe._

_And a man is a man. We really can't blame him._

I hit my desk.

...

...

Author's note: in the coming chapter Andre will show Clarisse part of his yacht. Andre talks to Charlotte, who is not pleased with the prince's behaviour. Pierre feels he's in a delicate position. The Queen's faith in Joe annoys Andre.


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

The day after I learned about Miss Penworthy's column I felt the need to give Clarisse a treat. A poor treat, true, but I got a bright smile when I invited her to see my suite. After nearly half a century of being a Queen, she hadn't turned blasé. It was one of the things that I found so endearing about her.

´I realised that with Leclerc being the only crew member who is allowed to enter the owner's decks, you can freely roam this deck as well as the sun deck.´

´I'd love to Andre!´

She put down her book and rose. I cleared my throat and checked my watch.

´I have a meeting with the officer of the watch now...´

She smoothly made it appear as if she'd only meant to adjust her skirt.

I felt like an idiot. I _never_ feel that way.

´Shall we have lunch in my suite? I will show you around then.´

She picked up her book before giving me a smile.

´I'll see you at lunch my dear,´ I said, kissing her forehead.

I smelled her shampoo, I felt her soft skin.

I _did_ have an appointment though it was hardly a meeting: I was going to play squash.

OoOoOoO

My opponent, one of the officers, made me a compliment about the yacht.

´I'm impressed by her sir,´ he told me. ´And we are all more than pleased with the crew accommodations.´

´I'm glad to hear that,´ I replied.

Keeping the crew happy was one way to control them.

We played for half an hour. He beat me but I didn't mind: he was thirty years my junior for one.

´Score...forty-four, fifty-nine,´ I panted.

´No sir. It's fifty-three.´

I wiped my brow and nodded that he was right.

Fifty-nine. It was just a number.

OoOoOoO

After dealing with my business affairs I read _The Guardian_. In this paper as well as in several other foreign papers editorials had been published saying that the accusations against the Queen of Genovia had to be checked again. However, with Her Majesty having escaped death penalty and many other important things going on in the world, it seemed _all's well that ends well_. The Royal Trial didn't get a lot of attention any more.

A 'favourite' I ignored was the reader's page of _Genovian Daily_. I'd opened it earlier that morning and I'd learned that Elsie's venomous pen had already caused fourteen hundred and eighty-one Genovians (the SuperDudes of this world) to leave a message on the paper's site. I read all one hundred and twenty-one responses that could be found under the _I don't agree_ button.

There were some people who wrote that it was typical to call a female murderer a whore. Others hadn't recognised a sexist way of thinking, but they said that Elsie shouldn't have hinted at something she couldn't prove. Several readers claimed to know Joe Romero and they stated that he would neither accept nor demand payment in the flesh. Some people were worried: hadn't Penworthy realised that His Royal Highness and princess Amelia might read her page? True, it was worse enough to know that 'you know who' had killed the King, but there was no point in throwing mud at her.

Fifty-nine respondents were convinced that Her Majesty was innocent of any crime.

OoOoOoO

Naturally I escorted Clarisse to my suite. I made me feel good to see her walk the corridor. She praised the modern art gracing the wall and told me that the round windows were so very yacht-like.

´Those are called portholes my dear,´ I grinned.

´Tosh. You don't call your suite a cabin now do you?´

Looking over her shoulder she playfully raised an eyebrow at me.

She noticed a corridor to the left and I invited her to explore it.

´This is obviously the elevator,´ I said, ´And these are the stairs.´

´Have you considered becoming a real estate broker Andre?´

She smiled at me happily.

´Do you think I will be good at it?´ I asked in a serious tone.

´That depends on how you will describe this,´ she replied, gesturing toward the small kitchen.

I gave it a try: ´Well ma'am, this is the kitchen.´

´You've missed your vocation Andre.´

Something started beeping. As a result the door to the laundry room opened and Leclerc appeared.

´Good afternoon Mr Leclerc,´ she greeted.

The butler inclined his head. ´Your Majesty. Sir.´

Leclerc stopped the beeping by opening the oven.

´How long before we can have lunch?´ I inquired.

´It will take about ten minutes sir.´

´Wonderful,´ I replied, ´that will enable me to show Her Majesty my sui- cabin.´

Clarisse shook her head and gave me a fond look. We walked toward my suite and I invitingly opened the door. I anxiously watched her enter my spacious sitting room.

There wasn't a lot of furniture in it: a small round dinner table, similar to the one in Clarisse's room, a comfortable chair near the bookcases, some build-in closets, a sofa and a few chairs. At the bow stood a chaise-longue. Some of my fantasies were situated there.

´It is so... _you,_´ she said, looking around approvingly.

´Do you mean it's empty?´ I said.

´Oh Andre,´ she replied with a warm smile, ´you know that is _not_ what I mean.´

I took a step toward her and lightly placed a hand on her hip.

´What _do_ you mean Clarisse?´

´This room is... sure of itself,´ she said: ´It's complete. Is that a González?´

She walked toward a small statue.

After lunch I took her to the stairs.

´On the deck below this one, there's a door to the staircase that requires a key to open it. Only myself and Leclerc have one. From _this_ side a key is not needed, but please, don't go downstairs,´ I urged.

´I won't,´ she promised: ´Not until _after_ we have left a harbour.´

She looked at me questioningly but I merely smiled and thanked her for her understanding.

´May I lead the way to the sun deck Clarisse?´

OoOoOoO

At first I'd destined the sun deck to be merely a spot for the satellite receivers. The ship's designer however had mentioned that she was surprised I didn't want a jacuzzi. I'd told her I'm not a sun addict, which is true, but I had thought about Clarisse mostly: she prefers the shadows.

´Yes,´ the designer had lisped, ´but you don't have outdoor space on the owner's deck and I think you might regret not being able to enjoy a wind, or how do you say? A breeze.´

The designer reminded me that the sun deck was like a walled yard (which was done to protect the communication devices) and that over half of the deck was now unused.

´If you don't want a jacuzzi, you might turn it into a garden,´ she suggested. ´You can easily create shadow by using parasols.´

OoOoOoO

Clarisse liked the design of the jacuzzi that had made its way to Triple V after all.

´You even have art _here_,´ she said, touching a mosaic picture.

´At first I thought to have a sea view made, but then I decided that flowers would be more original.´

´And you found the perfect combination in water-lilies.´

´I always strive for perfection.´

Tracing the contours of a lily, she shook her head. I held my breath.

When she turned around her proud expression made me exhale.

´From what I've seen of your yacht Andre, you have succeeded brilliantly.´

I had not been more content with myself since Rupert had died 'of natural causes'.

OoOoOoO

From then on we had lunch in her suite and afternoon tea in mine or the other way around. When the weather was good, we had our morning tea on the sun deck. The change of scenery, limited though it was, seemed to do Clarisse good. She could read for hours and she wrote in her journal a lot.

´If you continue like this, I will have to get you another writing pad,´ I said one evening.

She looked up to find me near, my index finger serving as a marker for my book. She apologised for neglecting me.

´Nonsense. You're writing, I'm reading. I just needed to stretch my limbs.´

I'd also needed to look at her. I couldn't but wonder if she'd be as elegant in bed as when sitting behind her desk.

´What are you reading?´ she asked.

I showed her the cover.

´I love that book,´ she replied, ´Donna Tartt is a true story-teller.´

´She certainly is. What are you writing about?´

´About this and that,´ she said.

Seeing that her explanation didn't satisfy me she added: ´I allow myself ten lines a day to note down how I feel. The rest is an account of the past.´

She blew at the sheet she'd been writing on, so the ink would dry faster.

It made my skin tickle.

OoOoOoO

An account of the past. For who? Her people? Her son and granddaughter?

´Good morning Charlotte!´

´Lord Sadique! _You_ still believe she's innocent, don't you?´

´With all my heart! Are you all right Charlotte? I don't know you to be this... bold.´

´I'm sorry sir. It's just that -´

She continued in a whisper, though I knew her to have an office of her own.

´- things have changed. I went to see my parents and I hoped that on my return people would have started _thinking_ again...´

OoOoOoO

Charlotte had been encouraged by none other than the prince to have a break, thanks to a mail I had sent Viscount Mabrey. It read that if there was _anyone_ Romero would turn to for help it would be Miss Kutaway. But with her staying at the Castle, there was unfortunately no chance for runaway Romero to contact her. The next day the swine had informed me that he had suggested the prince to give the overworked little Missy a few days off. He had pictured his private detective to arrest Romero, but Charlotte had not met the former Head of Security.

OoOoOoO

´... like sheep, as if they never even _knew_ her!´ Charlotte whispered angrily.

I reassured the young woman: the prince would set things right.

She made a throatily sound.

´Have _you_ by any chance heard of Joe sir?´

´I have not, I'm sorry to say.´

´I am sure he keeps her safe!´ Charlotte said before connecting me to the prince.

It didn't take long before I heard myself say: ´Pierre, you don't _believe_ it do you?´

´It's not easy Andre. Everyone seems to think she's a monster. They are my subjects. Am I to hurt their feelings by insisting she's innocent?´

´What are you talking about? She _is_ innocent! What if _they_ say that the earth is flat and carried by four elephants? Would you agree with them -´

He interrupted me: ´It's just that...´

He cleared his throat before continuing: ´I find myself in a delicate position. Genovia expects me to act.´

´What does your conscience tell you?´

´Joe went missing,´ the prince changed the subject. ´You must have heard about it. I think she's with _him_. The gossips figure they were having an affair.´

´You know better than to believe gossips!´

´Mabrey advised me to question Charlotte. She confessed that she'd seen the two of them dance privately in San Francisco. She swore that to _her_ knowledge they weren't _involved_.´

´There you are!´

´_Amelia_ told me that Joe _had the hots_ for - I've heard my niece being described as observant. Well. Are you enjoying your voyage?´

I cleared my throat.

´I'm worried for what's going on in my fatherland.´

´I'm preparing a statement Andre. God willing it will transform Genovia into a peaceful and quiet country again. Know that I will think about what you said. Goodbye.´

I liked it not.

A minute later I was talking to my cousin.

´The prince is beginning to see the light,´ he told me. ´He's starting to admit that when the police say she did it and when the judges say she did it and when practically every Genovian says she did it, she _did it_.´

´I don't believe it. She's his mother!´

´Unfortunately she is. But it's easy to forget that with him looking so much like his father.´

´He told me about a statement he'll make.´

´Yes. We told him that he needs to speak about _that woman_.´

´Do you think the prince will ask for a new trial?´

My cousin laughed at my stupidity.

´He has _great_ respect for the written word. A man of the bible, eh? I doubt he feels the need to investigate the investigation.´

´I hope he will be careful and not ruin his relationship with his mother.´

´The woman is a _murderess_ and a _fugitive_. Mabrey already told me that she's still got you twisted around her little finger. It's a good thing she's got two of them: she needs _one_ for Romero.´

I liked it not.

OoOoOoO

I pretended to be working but through the glass wall separating my office from my sitting room, I watched _her_ as she sat on a sofa. She was wearing a long sleeved blue shirt (ample bosom) and a black skirt (long shapely legs).

´Your tea is getting cold Andre.´

Such a simple line but how I enjoyed hearing it. She and I.

´I'll be right there my dear.´

My eye fell on a photo frame on my desk. I had a similar one in my office at home.

I locked my laptop and picked up the frame.

´Have you ever seen this picture Clarisse?´

She elegantly bent over to the coffee table to put down her cup so I could hand her the photo. It showed her, Rupert and myself in front of my mansion.

´Look at those suits and that dress,´ she said with a smile, ´It must have been made in... eighty-nine?´

´Eighty-nine indeed.´

It was one of my favourite pictures: Rupert had stood somewhat isolated, for my dogs Molly and Isac were standing between him and his wife and myself.

´You wouldn't happen to have more pictures of Rupert would you?´

Of course I had. I walked to a closet and took out my 'royal album'.

I sat down next to Clarisse and placed my left hand behind her back, enjoying her nearness. The album rested on our laps.

´These pictures are all new to me. How nice,' she said after having seen some pages.

I didn't feel awkward looking at pictures of the man I'd killed with said man's widow. I listened with pleasure to her remarks about photos showing her sons or her husband. She didn't comment a picture on which _she_ was the main object.

´You looked so beautiful then. You still do,´ I said.

She smiled briefly, keeping her eyes on the album as she turned the page. She must have felt me gazing at her. I moved my hand a little closer to her back. To break the silence she chatted about how displeased Rupert had been when Joseph had strongly discouraged him to go _sea_-fishing again. Puzzled, and annoyed at Romero being mentioned, I looked at the photo. It showed Rupert and myself fishing in my lake. At the margin of the picture Joe Romero was keeping an eye on his King.

About half a year before the photo had been made, Rupert had fallen overboard during a storm at the Mediterranean Sea. He'd called it an _adventure_, but I believe he'd been more frightened than he'd cared to admit. He _had_ after all followed what he liked to refer to as _Joe's_ _order_.

'I bet it was because Joe doesn't have sea-legs,' I commented her remark.

It was so ironic that I couldn't stop myself from smiling. She sensed it and looked at me, raising her eyebrows. I love it when she does that. She told me that Joseph didn't suffer from seasickness. I turned the page to find photos of the princes playing football with some children at a garden party. Clarisse and I recalled memories, just like in the old days. Closing the photo album she suddenly said: ´Joseph will not stop fighting for me. Wherever he is.´

There wasn't a hint of doubt in her voice. She placed the album on the table.

´He will prove that I'm innocent Andre.´

It upset me. There was a warmth in her voice and eyes that I didn't like to see for anyone but myself.

´I'm privileged to have two such good friends,´ she said, placing her hand on mine.

I took the opportunity and lifted it to kiss it.

Leaving Clarisse to her tea and her book, I got myself a chair with a view and picked up my Pratchett.

So Joe Romero was her _other_ good friend. Joe with his Spanish charm.

I'd heard how furious he'd been when his Queen was arrested. Rumour had it that he'd told her to get away. She had refused, just as she'd refused to come with _me_.

Romero's main objective would be to find Clarisse, whether or not that American girl had been right about his feelings. Unluckily for him, when it comes to activities that require delicacy I dislike the idea of _employees_ being involved during the entire process. Under normal circumstances Romero might have traced _one_ track, only to learn that he was on a dead-end road. The chance that he'd then pick up another trail was practically non-existent. The fact that he was a wanted man limited his opportunities severely. Against an adversary of my stature, Joe would never succeed. His investigations would lead nowhere.

OoOoOoO

I was woken from my trail of thoughts by her sweet voice.

'I'd better go to bed before I fall asleep on your sofa.'

She rose. I walked toward her.

'Good night my dear.'

'Good night Andre,' she said, and she briefly cupped my cheek.

Her gesture was a pleasant surprise.

'I know, I should shave.'

She shook her head and smiled.

'It looks good on you.'

Through the eye in my door I watched her until she entered her suite.

_I'm privileged to have two such friends_.

Friends. Had she and Romero been bordering on more than friendship, just like she and I? Surely they had not been lovers or she would have told me so to stop me from making advances.

I touched my cheek. He had a little beard, didn't he?

From now on I would trim, not shave. _That_ decision was easily made. But there was something that I needed to reflect on.

How to get rid of Joe Romero?

...

...

In the coming chapter Andre reasons that his plan to woo Clarisse could do with some help. A dead man's help.


	10. Chapter 9

This chapter takes place immediately following the previous chapter.

Chapter 9

Convinced that after all the obstacles I had taken away, I'd missed _one_, I made it for the gym. Some years ago I had a friendly chat with Joe Romero about physical exercise being stimulating for the brain. It turned out that he too liked to work out when he needed to find a solution to a problem. It was one of the things we had in common.

As I changed into shorts and a T-shirt, I told myself that it would make sense to ask Clarisse if she had romantic feelings for her Head of Security. I was afraid she'd say _yes_ though, or more likely, that she'd _say_ that he was her friend, while her _eyes_ would reveal that she felt more for the man than friendship. No, I wouldn't ask her about it any more than I would ask her how she felt toward _me_. If I'd push her she might confess that she found me attractive and then she'd tell me that I was her dear companion.

I had known all along that she wouldn't simply fall into my arms: my Clarisse isn't the type of lady to turn into a damsel in distress, no matter how hopeless her situation. It made me want her even more. Whenever the occasion arose, I touched her or stood or sat near her. She didn't seem to mind as long as she could think it to be amicably. My hand on her hip had made her walk away. Why? There were three options: she wanted to study a sculpture; she didn't want me to touch her like that; she preferred someone else's caresses.

She liked art all right, but I wasn't going to fool myself. If the _second_ option was true, there was no reason to despair. Her being aboard Triple V with me was only one step away from me being in her bed. It was my master plan and I _never_ fail. Never.

I needed to get rid of Joe Romero though...

After getting into a flow on my exercise bike, I examined several possibilities.

The idea of having Joe accused of killing King Rupert presented itself.

When brought to court Joe would defend his Queen's innocence even more eloquently and fiercely than he would his own. Using the stage to the best of his abilities he might even sacrifice himself and confess to have killed Rupert. Hell: once the bastard realised that there was no way to find the murderer he might step forward of his own accord to do so. The people of Genovia would accept his statement and they would do their utmost best to find their innocent Queen. But would Clarisse buy it? I didn't need to think about it: she wouldn't. She wouldn't believe that Joe killed Rupert any more than she'd believe that _I_ killed him. I pictured her being welcomed back in Genovia. The first thing she'd do would be to march to prison to free Joseph. Poor victimized brave Joe. Where would that leave me? Just where I'd started. No thank you.

It was a silly idea. Besides: the foreign media would look at a new trial Argus-eyed and it might be harder to get a _bodyguard_ into prison than to have a _Queen_ sentenced guilty. I never like repeating the same trick anyway.

Deep down I'd already made up my mind as to how to deal with Romero.

Bullets fly and knives cut in mere seconds...

I wouldn't be able to supervise the elimination of my rival, but I could live with that for _she_ was _here_ in all her voluptuous tempting elegance and _I_ was having too many cold showers.

I would set things in motion to have a bodyguard killed.

OoOoOoO

While I waited for my men to locate Joe Romero, Clarisse asked me for a radio.

I had bore in mind that she might do so one day and I had made preparations: on several occasions I'd complained about audio and video connections failing or mail not functioning. My darling knows nothing whatsoever about modern communication devices. She _had_ asked whether the ship's radar system was operating without malfunctions, and I'd used a lot of technical terms to explain that _that_ was running just fine.

I happen to be fairly good with electronic equipment. The radio I brought her at first merely produced a buzz instead of the news items she'd probably hoped for. After spending almost an hour _fixing_ it, I got two stations broadcasting music only (classical music and jazz) and a Brazilian station with popular music, lots of radio plays and last but not least a brief news item every hour. Clarisse was content and she rejected my offer to try and find more stations for I'd told her that I needed to deal with some urgent questions my caretaker had put before me.

When I walked into her sitting room the next morning, I found her leaning against a wall, holding the radio on her shoulder. With closed eyes she listened to the distinct sound of Anita O'Day. She sensed that I had entered, for she briefly opened her eyes and smiled at me. It moved me that she closed her eyes again to enjoy the rest of the song. I drank in her appearance. I would start by cupping her neck and jaw. I would kiss her forehead, step closer and feel the warmth of her body. I would trail my fingers up and down her arms before -

´I am _so_ happy to hear music again Andre.´

The song had died away and she'd placed the radio on her desk.

´Why didn't you tell me before?´

She shrugged.

´Perhaps I wasn't ready for the joy it brings. I could only think of –´

She stopped in mid-sentence. I smiled understandingly and walked toward her. Nat King Cole started to sing.

´Do you feel like dancing?´

She adjusted the volume of the radio and shook her head ever so slightly.

´Not before eight pm Andre,´ she said with an apologizing smile.

My men were the best. It wouldn't take them long to locate my rival.

OoOoOoO

Two days later on I had lunch with the captain. The steward served us, for Leclerc would prepare Clarisse's lunch. I knew from my butler's reports that no one even _suspected_ that there was a guest aboard, let alone who. The captain asked me whether I had plans to visit a harbour soon, and I told him no.

When I entered the owner's deck I found Leclerc dusting a painting in the corridor to Clarisse's suite. I made it for my own suite where I planned to work on a jigsaw puzzle before joining my love for afternoon tea. The butler followed me.

´Her Majesty was trying to get a European news station on the radio sir,´ he said.

´I tried it myself as well this morning, but it didn't work,´ I answered.

´Sometimes _my_ radio doesn't get a signal either,´ he said.

I wasn't in the mood for chatting and I didn't want him to think that I was encouraging him to talk about our Queen. Just when I grabbed the door knob, he spoke again:

´I tried to help Her Majesty. With the radio sir.´

His tone of voice made me look over my shoulder.

´But I wasn't successful. And she asked me whether _I_ had heard any news...´

He swallowed.

´And before I knew it, I told her about prince Pierre's speech.´

´For crying out loud Leclerc!´

´I'm sorry sir. She...´

He coughed.

´What have you told her?´

´I'm afraid I told Her Majesty that the prince asked the kidnapper or kidnappers to hand her over to Genovian justice sir.´

Damn! Things were just going better and now this. Leclerc wasn't really to blame: Clarisse has a way to make people, most people that is, talk. She is a skilful interrogator. Rupert had told me stories about that...

I made it for her room. When I knocked on her door there was no reply.

She was staring outside, which gave me a sense of déjà vu.

She cast me a quick glance. My expression told her that I knew about her knowing. I walked toward her.

´When you brought me that radio I reasoned that there was no bad news left to protect me against,´ she softly said.

Oh my dear... I had just wanted her not to become upset with me for acting as a censor. Clarisse spoke Portuguese so she would feel that the Brazilian station I'd found was valuable. I'd selected the broadcaster because I knew it to bring national news only, the one exception being when Elvis had died.

´Genovian _justice_...Maybe he meant the reverse! _Not_ hand over and _in_justice. What do you think?´

She didn't await my answer.

´If we can assume that Pierre believes Joseph rescued me, he might have wanted to warn him! What did the comments say?´

I was glad she didn't ask me to tell her about the rest of Pierre's speech. Not that I would have told her. The reverse of justice was easy to find but I wasn't going to pain her in having to come up with an explanation for: _And Mother, should you be free to move, I expect you to return to Genovia to honour the court's decision. You will not be executed but you will be locked away in a private residence_.

The editorials had said that the regent had made a clear statement: he had corrected Parliament's death penalty and he had left no doubt that the judges had not erred. He had not mentioned the hunt for the King's murderer but he was excused for that since the murderer was his mother. The journalists had concluded that the speech betrayed wisdom.

´The comments also recognised a double meaning my dear,´ I said.

Her lips turned into a smile but her eyes didn't join and when I put an arm around her shoulders, she didn't object.

Knowing that the future held more grief for her, her accepting my comforting gesture was... promising.

...

...

In chapter 10 the Queen will go through an ordeal once again.


	11. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Her suite, my suite, the sun deck. The corridor perhaps? I spent a lot of time to pick out the best stage to tell her about Romero's death. I knew full well why I thought about it so often: it distracted me from rehearsing my lines.

_I have bad tidings to bring my dear._ It sounded like something from a nineteenth century novel, said by a man who was holding a bottle containing sal volatile in his pocket. Having to tell her that her friend had passed away wasn't something I looked forward to.

While playing a bout of checkers against the ship's engineer, a picture presented itself to me.

OoOoO

She entered my suite for lunch.

´Andre?´

She walked around and finally saw me standing in my office, holding a receiver against my chest.

´Andre, what is it?´

Pretending to be startled by her sudden appearance I put the receiver down and entered the sitting room.

´The papers... I had to check it. I... I just called the Prime Minister.´

She paled.

´Is Pierre all right?´

I gestured toward the sofa.

´Yes _he_ is my dear. And so is Amelia. Have a seat.´

By the time Leclerc had brought lunch I had finished talking. I had spoken softly, using short lines and I hadn't bothered her with the details (bullet through the head, body found near a compost heap). From what I _did_ tell her, nothing seemed to come home to her.

She stared at me and I repeated what I'd said.

´It can't be Joseph,´ she replied at last.

´His body has been identified Clarisse.´

She shook her head.

´Obviously that wasn't done by people who _know_ him. And why would anyone want to kill Joseph? It can't be him.´

I covered her hands with mine.

´Clarisse, his brother identified him. The police suspect that he was killed because of his alleged involvement in your rescue.´

She took her hands away and rose.

´Joseph is a trained navy seal, he's not going to let someone harm him,´ she said, ignoring my reply.

She walked to a window, shaking her head.

´He was killed by a sniper,´ I revealed.

´Besides, there's no point: it would have made sense if he'd been _followed_ to a hiding place for then people would have found _me _or so they would have thought. Wouldn't you agree Andre?´

She walked to the dining table and sat down.

´A tuna sandwich. Lovely.´

I sat down opposite her, eyeing her wearily and trying to come up with something appropriate. She ate with delicate bites.

´Clarisse...´

She used her napkin and placed it on her empty plate.

´He is _not_ dead Andre. He _can't_ be dead.´

´I wish it were not so Clarisse, but he _is_ gone.´

She shook her head again.

´The Prime Minister has seen his bo -´ I began.

She rose so quickly that she overturned her chair.

´No!´

I stood as well.

´Clarisse, Sebastian confir-´

She covered her mouth with her hand and fled the room.

I added some whiskey to my tea.

About half an hour later on I went after her, taking some printed articles about Romero's death with me.

She wasn't in her sitting room.

´Clarisse?´

Silence.

´Clarisse?´

´Sir!´

The butler appeared in the doorway. His clothes were wet.

´I tried to persuade Her Majesty to come in-´

I run toward the sun deck and got soaked within seconds.

OoOoO

Her food remained untouched. She didn't leave her suite. I talked to her through her bedroom door but I didn't get any responses. I found the articles about Romero's death torn to neat pieces.

On the second day Leclerc informed me that she hadn't eaten again.

´This can't continue,´ I said with a sigh, ´Her Majesty _must_ eat!´

He nodded.

I walked to the kitchen and toasted some bread that was part of her untouched lunch. I buttered it and put her favourite marmalade on it. When I entered her suite she immediately smelled the toast.

´I'm _not_ hungry Mr Leclerc.´

´You must eat.´

She turned to face me and shook her head.

´He was your friend Clarisse and your hope, but _not_ your last hope.´

She made a small sound.

´There's a picture of your granddaughter in the paper today.´

She mouthed the girl's name. Good.

´I will print it for you...´

She looked at me.

´- _if_ you eat.´

She stared at me wide-eyed.

´You _must_ eat Clarisse. Please.´

It took her ten minutes to finish the toast. When she was done I returned to my room to keep to my part of the deal. When I handed her the picture she tenderly looked at her granddaughter's face. I told her that the photo accompanied an article about Amelia wanting to come over for Romero's funeral. It evoked a reaction. I held her as she clung to me.

´Joseph c- can't be... He can't be d-. Joseph!´ she cried.

Her tears wet my shirt and I soothingly caressed her back.

´D- dead! Andre! K- killed, I- I-´

I held her warm body against mine. She slowly calmed down.

´Do you remember the costumed ball when Joe had a word with _Zorro_?´

She nodded against my shoulder.

´Had he danced with you once or twice already?' I asked, though I knew the answer.

She sniffed and sat up straight, accepting my handkerchief.

´Once,´ she said, ´I'd signalled Joseph that _Zorro_ wasn't to come near me again.´

I put my arm around her shoulders and she leaned against me. I told her about the first time I'd met Romero: ´Despite my clearance one code, he accompanied me all the way to your office. I felt that he was making up his mind whether I was entitled to visit you just like that.´

My trip down memory lane made her return my smile. She put her hand on mine.

´But I'm sure that it only took him half a minute to see that you were to be trusted.´

For a heartbeat I wanted to remove my hand as if touching me would make her sense that Romero had been wrong in trusting me.

´He was a good man,´ I gravely said.

´He was my dear friend,´ she said, ´I knew that almost from the start.´

She smiled through her tears.

´Really? How so?´

She shrugged and sighed. I waited, anxious and curious.

´He made me feel safe.´

I was about to say that that was what he was paid to do, but she shook her head, understanding what was on my mind.

´No,´ she said, ´not simply as in free from harm. With him I could be at ease even when he was near. Does that make sense to you?´

Not wanting her to enter more deeply into this, I nodded.

´I wish,´ she whispered after a long silence, ´that he realised that I was all right. The thought of him fearing for -´

´He was an intelligent man Clarisse. He will have understood.´

She bit her lower lip and blinked.

´I'm here for you,´ I softly said while caressing her cheek, ´Cry if you need to.´

She did.

I reasoned she felt at ease with _me_ too.

OoOoO

My cousin informed me that the regent had persuaded his niece that paying her respects to a man who was believed to be the rescuer of a murderer wouldn't do. Because it was second hand information at best and considering that Von Troken -in his enthusiasm- might very well have made it up, I contacted Charlotte Kutaway.

First I had to talk about Joe, but when the Queen's aid had sniffed away her tears, I could question her about more pressing matters. When I said I was concerned about something I'd learned from Von Troken Charlotte closed the door to her office.

´I called the princess for him, and I sort of kept listening to what he had to tell her.´

As if I'd reproached her, she angrily continued: ´And I'm _not_ sorry for that. I just needed to know what he was going to tell her. She said that she wanted to attend poor Joe's funeral and _he_ said that he understood that she liked Joe, but that it was a crime to help a _convicted person_ escape and that her presence at the funeral would cause raised eyebrows. She ignored him and told him that she was worried for the Queen, afraid that something would happen to her without Joe. And do you know what he said Lord Sadique?´

Charlotte's voice trembled with emotion.

´He asked Mi- the princess whether she believed Genovia was some banana republic, and she said that it wasn't. So we agree on that, he quickly said and then he said that countries that _weren't_ banana republics must have solid and incorruptible legal systems. Can you believe it Lord Sadique? She was silent for a moment but then she exclaimed that all it took was _one_ judge that could be bribed. I was so glad I could have cheered! But _he_ sighed and said: what about the police, what about the prosecutor, what about Parliament, what about the people?´

_What about brainwashing a prince_, I thought.

´How did she reply Charlotte?´

´She was silent for a moment and then she repeated that she wanted to attend Joe's funeral. The prince told her no. The same day the Romero family stated that they preferred to bury Joe in private and I hope _that_ was what made the princess stay in San Francisco.´

OoOoOoO

Needless to say that all I told Clarisse was that her granddaughter hadn't attended Joe's funeral after all because the Romero's wanted a private ceremony. She was sorry to hear it.

´Dear Amelia, she must have been disappointed for being unable to...´

She cleared her throat: ´Joseph was the one who talked her into coming to the Independence Ball, have I ever told you about that?´

She hadn't, but I refrained from making inquiries for that would only make her talk about Romero.

´Does Amelia look like Philippe?´ I asked instead.

OoOoO

The next day Leclerc told me that the Queen was on the sun-deck. I was relieved that she'd left her suite, until I found her pacing up and down. She was unaware of my arrival. She linked her fingers behind her neck and looked up at the sky with such a desperate expression that my heart bled for her.

I silently retreated. I had to do _something_.

OoOoO

´Good morning! How's your Latin?´

She was sitting at her desk, her hands lying in her lap.

´Rusty,´ she replied, looking puzzled.

´So is mine. We will give it a brush-up.´

I walked to the dining table and put down the book, school exercise-books and pencils I'd brought. Pulling a chair backwards I looked at her invitingly.

Her curiosity got the upper hand. After I gentlemanly pushed on her chair, I briefly placed my hands on her shoulders.

It was my plan to spend the mornings studying. It would distract her and map out her day. It would be beneficial for me as well for it would create a new bond between us.

By the time Leclerc brought us tea Clarisse and I had noted down the praesens of 'amo'.

...

...

Author's note: in the coming chapter it will be Andre's birthday. Will the Queen have a present for him? And will it be what Andre hopes for?


	12. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

On my birthday I followed my usual routine until it was time for morning tea. I hesitated whether _I_ had to visit _her_, as was my custom. The previous days she had not mentioned my birthday coming up and though I didn't care much for the occasion, I _was_ anxious for her not to have forgotten about it. After scolding myself for being childish I made it for her suite. Hearing her and Leclerc softly talking in the kitchen, I peeked around the corner. It seemed to me that my butler shared his hair colouring cream with our Queen, just as I'd expected him to do. Clarisse carefully placed a tiny candle on a fancy cake, her face lit with merry anticipation. I silently and shamefully retreated and I acted very surprised when Clarisse entered my suite carrying a tray with a tea pot, cups and cakes and a scroll of paper.

She smiled at me warmly, put down the tray, congratulated me and kissed my cheek.

´I wish I could have bought you a present,´ she said, ´I've been thinking what I could give you and... You've been asking about my childhood. I wrote this down for you. I hope you like it.´

She handed me the scroll. Moved by her nervousness I removed a braided ribbon that held the scroll together. Her elegant handwriting filled several pages.

´Please don't read it now,´ she said.

I kissed her hand and thanked her for her present.

´You ought to blow out the candle and make a wish!´

I did the former and I looked as if I'd done the latter. It's not that I didn't harbour a wish, but wishing for things has never made them come true. My _actions_ so far would not result in her taking me to her bedroom for my birthday. The gift she _had_ made me was so very Clarisse.

We sat down and while she poured us tea, I carefully unrolled the scroll a little.

_Andre,_

_You've often asked me about my childhood and I've haven't told you a lot about it. __I wrote down a little history that is not generally known and I wonder whether Rupert ever shared it with you. _

When the tea-pot was placed on the table I let the paper sheets re-roll themselves. I didn't have to put an effort in looking caught. She blushed before repeating that she hoped I would like my present.

While we enjoyed Leclerc's eggless cakes I received a call and Clarisse urged me to answer it. I went to my office to do so and I paid attention to my sister congratulating me while at the same time I watched Clarisse. She'd stopped stirring her tea and I got the impression that she was holding her breath as to not to reveal her presence. After I'd ended the call Clarisse put on a smile.

´How is Valerie doing?´

My sister's name is usually shortened to Val and I was reminded of Clarisse calling Joe Joseph. It had been over four months since he'd died.

I replied to Clarisse's question and then asked her why she hadn't brought her exercise-book.

´I thought that you might want to skip classes on your birthday. And your relatives will want to talk to you.´

With perfect timing the phone rang: it was my nephew Vincent. Just after I'd seated myself again a fax came through. Clarisse laughed and I admitted that we'd indeed better continue to study tomorrow. Knowing what her answer would be I asked her whether she wanted to have more days off. She shook her head: ´I enjoy studying with you.´

Just as I'd hoped, she had blossomed since we'd taken up Latin. Our relationship was still much the same with the difference that like a fifteen year old making homework with the loveliest girl from school, I touched her as often as possible. I only had _one_ copy of the Latin book, so she and I had to sit next to each other and when reaching out to turn a page or get a pencil my fingers would brush her hand. She didn't comment my schoolboy's approach and she seemed to have no problem with my behaviour. However, if I made her a compliment on her appearance, she changed the subject. Whenever I eyed her warmly, she looked away. She wasn't playing hard to get, she was playing _we're friends_. It was frustrating. I spent a lot of time in the gym, but it didn't help much.

´So my idea to brush up our Latin was a good one?´ I replied to her remark.

´If I wouldn't have had you and our lovely lessons,´ Clarisse said, staring at her hands,´I'm afraid I would have drowned -´

My heart skipped a beat.

´- in my grief.´

She gave me a feeble smile.

´And at the same time I dislike myself for liking to study...´ her voice trailed of.

From my library she had got books about various subjects of her interest to study them in the afternoon.

´My darling, you do not think that after we suffered a loss, we are not allowed to enjoy ourselves any more?´

The damn phone rang again. I softly continued talking, lowering my voice.

´What is the point of living when we can't celebrate life? Your granddaughter cheered you up after Philippe's death and I think that if there's a heaven, your son would have glanced down at you and said _finally._´

She gave it a thought and nodded. I answered the phone while watching Clarisse. She was staring ahead, deep in thought. The index finger of her right hand caressed her collar-bone. I turned my back to the enticing picture she offered. After I'd broken the connection, rather than sitting next to her again, I walked over to my dinner table that held a partly finished jigsaw of an Austrian mansion.

´Would you mind if I continued my puzzle my dear?´

´Of course not. Would you like some more tea?´

´No thank you.´

She poured herself another cup.

After a while she cleared her throat and asked me if something was wrong.

Without looking up I said that all was fine.

´Are you all right Andre?´

´Nothing fits,´ I replied, tapping a puzzle piece on the table.

´Are you worrying about something? Your nephews didn't get themselves into trouble did they?´

´No, those days are past.´

She walked toward me.

´You're not on Genovia's wanted list, are you?´

Her expression was tense and concerned. Her body had curves in all the right places.

I shook my head and focused on the mansion's roof.

´Andre, have _I_ done something to upset you?´

Because of her dependency on my hospitality asking that question was a brave thing to do. It took me a moment to reply. How many rescuers would admit that they were not upset with her but sick with longing for her? How many men would already have made it clear that there was a special way to say ´thank you for saving my life´?

´Please don't ever think so my dear.´

´It's just that you're spending more time alone and I thought -´

´I've been training a lot lately.´

She picked up a puzzle piece and without hesitation placed it in the right spot.

´Ha!´ I cried out, ´Now _that_ is something to get upset about!´

It made her laugh with relief.

´Will I see you for lunch?´

´Of course my dear.´

By way of a goodbye she cupped my cheek.

After she'd left I settled myself in my favourite chair to read the story she'd written down for me. The phone rang but I ignored it. Starting with the introduction again, I had no difficulty imagining Clarisse's beautiful voice speaking the lines.

_Andre,_

_You've often asked me about my childhood and I've haven't told you a lot about it. __I wrote down a little history that is not generally known and I wonder whether Rupert ever shared it with you. _

_Not that he was familiar with the particulars from my side, but perhaps he told you that when we got officially engaged I'd been his betrothed for ten years already._

_By way of a poor present, let me tell you about that._

I anxiously picked up the second page.

_The books I owned as a child all made it to my sons' rooms. We spent many a pleasant hour reading them. Pierre preferred to listen to tales of dragons, while Philippe's favourites were stories of cunning heroes. From one book I never read them. It was the book given to me in April of the year when I was seven. _

_From the moment I could read, digesting books is what I loved doing best. With my brother at boarding school and having private teachers myself, I suppose I was a lonely child, but I didn't mind. I liked the company of adults and when one day my father told me that he and I were to visit 'uncle' Etienne and that His Majesty would be there as well, I was perfectly fine with that once I'd learned that there wouldn't be any other children. _

_On occasion of the visit I was made a new dress and when I first fitted it my father came to check my appearance. He was sorry to see that I still had big feet, and he made a remark about the dress being long enough to cover my scratched knees, but he approved the overall picture I presented and he told me that I looked like a lady. I beamed at our seamstress, Lucia, who kindly nodded at me._

_´Can you imagine baroness Nicole to climb a tree Clarisse?´ father asked me._

_The baroness was in her eighties and she couldn't walk without a cane. I was about to reply when my father answered his own question: ´She is a lady. Ladies don't climb trees. You are a lady so...?´_

_´I like climbing trees sir,´ I said, looking at the hem of my dress._

_´I've noticed that Clarisse. But you are a lady and...?´_

_´The sound of the wind going through the leaves is so beautiful father,´ I tried._

_The seamstress urged me to stand still._

_´You need not climb a tree to hear that girl,´ father said, ´I will ask you once again: You're a lady so ...?´_

_´I won't climb trees sir.´_

_´Good. You are a noblewoman and your behaviour should be exemplary. I expect you to be a perfect lady when you meet His Majesty. No whistling, no running about and no cheekiness. Understood?´_

_I promised him that I would behave and I did. I sat straight, I was polite and I smiled. The ladies at uncle Etienne's tea-party told each other that I was quite the little lady. When the gentlemen joined us I made a perfect curtsey for the King who started chatting with me. The King was too old to pull at my braid so I was relaxed and I cared not that his impressive whiskers made him look like a lion. _

_His Majesty and my father happened to be the only gentlemen who smoked and at the King's suggestion they walked into the garden so the ladies wouldn't have to inhale their cigar fumes. I couldn't hear what they were talking about, but I didn't miss their interaction and it surprised me to see it: normally my father was the one to be pleased, not the one to please. _

_On our way back home my father -every inch the confident count again- padded my head and told me that I was a good girl. This kind of praise was normally reserved for his pointers after a successful hunt and it got even better: on our return home he gave me the book I mentioned above. I read it underneath an old majestic chestnut at the estate. The warm breeze caressing me, the scents of spring, the birds singing, having something to read and knowing that I was in father's good graces made me feel happy._

_Two or three days after I'd received the book, my father sent away the butler who was attending us at lunch. I thought that perhaps I'd done something wrong, and I was surprised when my father asked me how I liked my new book. I carefully said that I'd liked some stories, not voicing my thought that there were too many tales about sleeping or waiting maidens. Father remarked that all girls must dream of a prince on a white horse. I smiled politely. Father cleared his throat and told me that he had an announcement to make._

_'This morning I signed a contract that will bring prosperity and I dare say joy to our ancient family.'_

_He eyed me as if to encourage me to make a guess. Because of the 'joy' I hesitatingly asked him whether he was to remarry. He said that he wasn't but he neither added ´silly girl´ nor told me that if he'd found himself a new wife, he surely would have waited for Rainier to be present before making the announcement. _

_He smiled at me._

_'I have found you a spouse.'_

_While he poured himself some wine I waited for him to start laughing at his joke. He mentioned having been at the royal Castle in Pyrus. ´It is a beautiful Castle. Look at me Clarisse.'_

_His expression was not that of a man who is about to say: ´I fooled you didn't I?´ It would have been a sick joke if he had, but I wished for it to happen with all my might. _

_'I found you a prince Clarisse.'_

_I just knew what he was going to say next: 'A prince on a white horse.'_

_I didn't respond. _

_'Right now I'm having lunch with Genovia's future Queen.'_

_It didn't impress me the way you might think Andre. __Marriage was something for adults and I was a child. As for queens: in the stories I'd read they were dull bystanders, no more. I wasn't excited about my future prospects, I was upset: my father speaking of a contract and of prosperity made me feel sold. _

_´Do you want to know what your mother did after I told her that she was going to marry your father?´ my father asked Pierre and Philippe one day. _

_My sons shook their heads. ´Did she jump up and down?´ Pierre guessed, for that was what he'd done when he'd seen the slide he'd gotten as a birthday present a month earlier on. _

_´She added honey to her tea,´ my father told my boys._

_Philippe had had the giggles all day long and his grandfather's incredulous expression had his small body bent over with laughter. _

_Pierre glanced from me to my father and he thoughtfully replied: ´Mother likes honey.´_

_´Indeed, but such a thing to do!´ father said, eyeing me._

_´It was somewhat overwhelming,´ I told him with a small smile, feeling as tense as I had when he'd revealed the joyous news._

_My father had made it clear that the engagement was to be a secret. I readily promised him I wouldn't tell anyone about it, though it didn't feel right that even Rainier wasn't to be informed. As months passed by the whole 'I found you a prince' thing merely seemed like a dream. When the hunting season neared I could no longer fool myself into believing that._

_One day after classes I went to my room to give my dolls and teddy bears a summary of what I'd been taught that day, as was my custom. Quite often it would make me think of things to ask my teachers, so it worked out fine for all of us. Imagine what a shock it was for me to see that my pupils had gone missing. My investigations led me to my father. First he said that my toys went on a holiday. When I replied that they would never leave without me, he said that it was a noble thing to make sacrifices and then he took me to the hunting cabin. _

_I normally avoided the cabin because it looked spooky. I hadn't been near it in a while and I'd never even noticed any workmen, though judging by the obvious improvements to the building, they must have been busy for some time. _

_Father walked me around the cabin. It smelled after paint and newly sawn wood. A tiny part of me wondered whether this cabin would from now on be a play-cabin for me and a home for my toys but that idea died away when father repeated that sacrifices needed to be made. He didn't elaborate, leaving it up to me to draw my conclusions. Since father believed that children weren't around unless they were acknowledged by adults, he and his steward sometimes discussed the state of the estate in my presence. I knew that money was an issue for us. _

_I reasoned that he'd sold my dolls and bears (who were valuable to me) to pay the workmen and the building-materials. I failed to understand why he hadn't used the money to have several ill functioning chimneys fixed or improve the sun-lounge or replace the floor of the ballroom. _

_A few days later on I was in the kitchen, babbling to Mrs Diaz, the cook. I'd started summing up the capitals of Europe plus the year they'd been founded and when that failed to interest her I expressed my hope that Sonia, Marie, Claudette, Anna, Lancelot, Henri and Alec had found nice new children to take care of them and to read them bedtime stories. Absent mindedly the cook inquired who all those people were. _

_´Oh,´ she said after I'd explained, ´aren't they in the attic?´_

_I hurried to go and see. I knew my way around the huge attic and it didn't take long before I'd located some new boxes. One of them contained my pupils. I hugged them all and reassured them that I hadn't been the one to lock them up. _

_I still believed father planned to sell them and it pained me, but if we were in debts for the hunting cabin I had no choice but to part from my little friends. Rushing downstairs I got the dolls warmer clothes as well as other necessities._

_I hurried back and re-dressed the girls. I was brushing Henri's fur when the scent of a cigar entered my nose. _

_Father was not pleased. He made it clear that an engaged young lady like myself should not play with dolls. Taking Henri from me he dropped him in the box. The bear's snout hit the bottom. I was shocked but before I could respond, father ordered me to put the others back in the box._

_I obeyed, but while I was making Marie a snug bed, father threw in her mates, smashed the lit on the box and dragged me with him. I started crying because I hadn't had time to make air holes in the box._

_´Please don't sell them! You can have my piggy bank instead!´ I offered, feeling stupid for not having thought of it before. ´It's very heavy so it will pay for the hunting cabin.´_

_´Silly girl! You will not make the prince feel sorry about the contract, is that understood?´_

_He handed me his handkerchief._

_´All I need is for you to act like a lady, understood? I want the Crown Prince to be content with you, understood? If he is, you need not worry about the cabin.´_

_My father couldn't boast to have a lot of large game at his estate and the members of the royal family didn't often accept count Valois's annual invitation to come hunting. That year the Crown Prince came to shoot our birds. The prospect of his arrival unnerved me just as much as an exam did. Professor Beckmann, a retired university professor who taught me history and geography, took offence of my absent mindedness and he ordered me to explain. What was I to say? If the prince doesn't like me, he'll ask the King to tore the contract and then father will need my dolls and bears to repay for the hunting cabin and I now fear that might not even be enough? _

_I assured the professor that I liked his lessons very much and I told him that I was a little nervous for the prince's visit. He chuckled and said that he knew the prince to be a kind and bright young man._

_When you're seven years old twenty-two is hardly young and I wondered whether I could trust the professor's praise. _

_Father wanted me to join the huntsmen for lunch and act the hostess. One of the prince's friends thought it was funny to scare me with a story about the blood of game being smeared on girls' faces. I didn't so much as blink. Feeling both my father and the prince glancing at me, I gave a reply that caused the latter to laugh. The other gentlemen followed suit. I kept my face straight, though I was pleased as Punch: the prince seemed to like me and father had given me an approving nod._

_Rupert and I had been married for some years when I asked him about his recollection of our first meeting. He remembered two things: that the sight of the dead birds hadn't made me cry and that he'd been glad I hadn't brought a doll to lunch. I concluded that he hadn't made my pupils go into exile. Isn't it strange that after all those years that still mattered to me? _

_As you know Rupert and I allowed our sons to choose for themselves. I hope Pierre will make sure that Amelia too can follow her heart._

_Well Andre, with this I conclude the story of my secret engagement. I wish you a happy birthday._

_With love,_

_Clarisse_

I stared ahead.

Picturing Clarisse as a tree climbing girl had made me smile but if anything her story had moved me. I may not always take people's feelings into account but that doesn't mean that I have no empathy for others. And Clarisse I loved. Her childhood ought to have been a happy one.

I skipped through the papers: there wasn't a single crossing out or ink-blot. It must have taken her a lot of time to write it down and even more time to construct it. I was proud of her penmanship.

After rereading the story I focused on why she had selected this particular history. Had she delved into her unpleasant memories to give me something special? Or did my diplomatic Queen want me to know she wasn't for sale ever again? Perhaps I was getting paranoia. Perhaps I needed to approach _the wooing of Clarisse_ differently.

Was I wrong in thinking that she hadn't liked it that I'd spent less time with her?

I would think about the possibilities of that idea later on. First I was going to read my mail after which I would have lunch with my future lover.

...

...

Author's note: In chapter 12 Andre, claiming to have business to deal with, goes ashore, leaving the Queen aboard Triple V.


	13. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

It was crowded in the hotel's café and the patrons expressed themselves noisily. Was it because of my age that I found their loudness annoying or because I'd spent months in far more refined company?

Not being in a mood to chat with strangers I created a shield by skipping through some books I'd bought and by radiating aloofness.

I wasn't being addressed, but I _was_ an object of interest for some local women at a nearby table. When their whispered compliments on my appearance didn't cause me to react, they decided, also on account of my pile of English books that I must be British.

´Look,´ a plump woman in her forties said, ´that is a book about the killed king.´ She pointed toward 'King Rupert, the biography' which held an impressive 752 pages.

´Which killed king?´ a redhead-from-a-bottle asked.

´The European king who was killed by his wife because he cheated on her. It's on Lord Silver Spoon's table.´

Some of her friends chuckled but one woman exclaimed: ´She killed him for that? That is _so_ overdone!´

She paused for a moment before continuing: ´She should have cut one of his balls.´

The women laughed loudly.

´Yes!´ the Amazon said, ´that is the way of Brazilian women!´

Her statement caused her friends to cheer.

_Had_ Rupert paid for his infidelity by loosing a ball, it wouldn't have stopped him from sleeping around. Accepting the offers women made him was his second nature, just as it was Clarisse's nature to show her fury by acting icily polite.

Her birthday gift to me had been a good introduction to carefully enter into the subject of her married life. She'd said that she'd been very fond of Rupert. ´But hadn't you expected more of your marriage than living as brother and sister?´ I'd softly replied, wanting to know whether Rupert had been bluffing when he'd suggested that he and Clarisse were lovers despite the fact that he had broken his wedding vows.

´Brother and - What makes you -,´ she'd tilted her head to study me. ´Ah. You think that because he was unfaithful, I rejected his... attentions toward me?´

I'd remained silent.

´Responsum dabatur discipulis ab omnibus angelis,´ she'd read and she'd looked at me to translate it for it _was_ my turn. I'd just stared at her. She'd given me a small smile. ´I didn't see a reason to live like a nun. Could you pour me some more tea please?´

A waiter startled me by asking -in English- whether I would like another cappuccino. Before I knew what I was saying I ordered a cup of tea.

´Certainly your Lordship,´ he said. The plump woman went wide-eyed and bent over to a friend.

Tea... I had left my Queen for a week to make her long for me and here I was missing _her _after just a few hours. Surely the crew members who were now on leave would make the best of their holiday. I hoped they would boast about my yacht.

OoOoOoO

Leclerc had not been surprised when I'd told him that _he_ was to remain aboard, for, as he'd said: ´Her Majesty needs someone to attend her.´ I agreed with him: I would not withhold my guest and my Queen a servant. That _didn't_ mean that the thought of bringing my butler with me to isolate Clarisse completely hadn't occurred to me. She had enough clothes to last for a week and Leclerc could prepare her meals, which she would have to warm in the microwave using my clear instructions. But what if she accidentally started a fire? What if a crew member heard noises from above and decide to investigate? What if she slipped or got sick? It was clear that Leclerc would have to stay aboard but I couldn't allow him to become a companion to our Queen...

My butler was in awe for her and as a well trained servant he wouldn't address her, let alone spend time with her. Just to make sure he _couldn't_ I'd given him a lot of work. I'd told him that I hoped he wouldn't upset our Queen again, as he had done when he'd told her about the Regent's speech. ´Once bitten twice shy sir,´ he'd replied. Leclerc would probably only mention the weather when he'd bring his Queen her meals. Apart from instructing Leclerc I'd played Clarisse as well. This morning I'd wanted to remind her of the things she wasn't supposed to do in my absence but before I'd said more than two words she'd completed my line: ´There might be yacht fanatics who will want to take pictures of Triple V, so please don't enter the sun deck in case they have helicopters or planes and it would be best not to open the curtains Clarisse.´

´I am sorry, but it's for your own protection,´ I'd said with a sigh. ´I will take my leave now my dear.´

´Already? I thought we might have morning tea together...´

I'd glanced at my watch and lied that I had an early meeting at the hotel. ´And I need to make sure that Leclerc understands what I need him to do this week.´

She'd nodded. She might mention the weather when Leclerc brought her her meals and then she'd dismiss the butler to allow him to work on his other chores.

´I'm sorry that because of me you can't invite your business partners here,´ she'd said.

I'd checked my cuff links. ´Please don't feel bad about that my dear.´

She'd kissed my cheek. ´Have a good time Andre.´

OoOoOoO

Sipping my tea I skipped through Rupert's biography. It contained eight sections filled with pictures. Some of them were unknown to me but the pleasure of seeing the Renaldis was ruined by captions like 'HRH the Prince didn't know that his fiancée was not as innocent as she appeared to be'. The writer had seen fit to interview a woman who claimed to have been Rupert's mistress for nine years. She stated that her royal lover had complained about his wife on many occasions, saying that she was hungry for power. The mistress had reason to believe the Queen to have been cold and frigid.

I studied a picture of the so called mistress. 'Miss Caroline d'Nancy offered the King a peaceful home when the situation at the Castle became unbearable for him.'

Caroline, Caroline... Oh, she was Sneezy! Rupert had slept with her twice, years apart, and she only made it the second time because Rupert had been curious after her new E cup. The enlarged boobs lost their appeal when their owner still proved to sneeze uncontrollably after getting an orgasm.

Rupert never had a real affair but he wasn't in a position to deny Caroline's words and the writer who'd noted down the woman's tale had seen fit not to investigate. And who could blame him? Truth finding wasn't popular in Genovia any more. It would be quite a challenge to set things right... But that was something I would give my thoughts to later on. First I needed to change for lunch.

OoOoOoO

The restaurant Senhor Duarte Vargas had recommended for our lunch was a grand as the small harbour city could boast to have.

While aboard Triple V I'd contacted my Brazilian acquaintance to discuss certain business. After I'd casually mentioned that I was to disembark in a couple of days he had -as I'd expected- insisted to come and meet me, saying that a four hundred kilometres journey was a mere trifle.

´You've been at sea for _months_, haven't you Lord Sadique?´ Miguela Vargas said with a strong accent which many men would find charming. Senhor Vargas had insisted that we'd speak English.

´Yes I have. It is a strange sensation to feel steady earth under my feet again.´

Miss Vargas giggled. ´I checked for your yacht on the internet. It's beautiful! With its dark-blue hull! There are only a few pictures, did you know that? And none of them from the interior...´

Her grandfather coughed and rather than asking for an invitation to come aboard Triple V, she asked me what I missed most when I was sailing the oceans.

´That would be making my Friday morning round at my estate,´ I smoothly replied.

´You don't miss the _people_?´

´If so living aboard a yacht wouldn't be a wise thing to do, would it?´

She giggled.

´With today's communication methods it's easy to stay in touch with family and friends,´ I added with a smile.

´I wondered sir, was it possible to drop your yacht into port?´ Miguela's brother asked.

´No, she's too large. She lies at anchor outside the harbour.´

In international waters of course. If I'd sailed for just another seven hours I would have found a harbour large enough for Triple V, but I'm a wealthy man and as such I'm allowed to indulge my every whim.

´What was the first thing you did when you arrived here Lord Sadique?´ Miguela asked in a playful tone.

´Let's see. I contacted your grandfather...´ I nodded at Senhor Vargas. Calling him hadn't been on my priority list, but the Latin gentleman believed and appreciated my little lie. ´And I went to a book store.´

´You like to read _too_?´ Miguela said excitedly, ´What are _your_ favourite magazines?´

OoOoOoO

I'd told Clarisse that Senhor Vargas wanted to bring his grandchildren Ramiro and Miguela to lunch, to introduce me to the next generation. My Queen had liked the idea of women being involved in business, but I'd had to disappoint her: Miguela's interference with her family's sugar plantation didn't go beyond selecting the Christmas cards that were sent by the Vargas group.

´Ah. And she makes a fourth at lunch,´ Clarisse had concluded.

´I wonder what kind of a woman young Miss Vargas is,´ I'd thoughtfully said. ´She must be charming or her grandfather wouldn't want to bring her along.´

´I think _Miss_ is the keyword here,´ Clarisse had said and she'd changed the subject.

As it had been my intention to make her a little jealous, I was satisfied by her response.

OoOoOoO

´I myself just love _Cosmopolitan_ and _Paris match,´_ Miguela revealed.

I was glad that Clarisse couldn't hear her_._

Senhor Vargas nodded: ´Yes, our Miguela is fluent in French.´

´I read about your Queen. You were her friend yes? This Viscount... Librey? No?´

´Perhaps it was Mabrey?´

´Yes! He says that there are people who still think that she is innocent and that you are one of them.´

´He is right.´

Miguela quickly informed her relatives about the trial and then asked: ´She didn't do it?´

´I would sooner believe that Earth grants asylum to aliens than that I'd believe my Queen to be guilty.´

Bending forward to create cleavage Miguela smiled brightly. ´That is from Men in Black yes?´

´It is indeed.´

Senhor Vargas studied his glass of wine. ´It is hard to prove that there _aren't_ aliens among us sir.´

I solemnly nodded at him. ´It is Senhor. I'm placing adds in papers, hoping it will change people's minds, but so far...´

´If _you_ say she didn't do it, she didn't do it!´ Miguela stated and she looked at her brother and grandfather to challenge them to differ.

´I hope she is proven innocent,´ Ramiro said and his grandfather nodded in agreement.

Miguela placed her hand on my arm. ´It must be hard for you to know that your Queen is in trouble. And when you're all alone on your beautiful yacht, you must be worrying a lot.´

She glanced at her grandfather before focusing on me again: ´Maybe you should -´

´I recall that you like to ride, Lord Sadique?´ Senhor Vargas interrupted his granddaughter. ´May I invite you on a hiking tour? We will be leaving in three days and we'll ride for six days.´

´Yes! When you come along there will be fifteen people. We ride from cabin to cabin so you see it's very comfortable,´ Miguela added. ´And it will set your mind of worrying for your Queen yes?´

As his grandfather and sister reminded each other of the wonderful tour they'd had the previous year, Ramiro softly informed me about the other participants.

Riding had it's charms. Tick. The group Senhor Vargas had gathered around him seemed to be as respectable as one could hope for. Tick. I would have to find more employment for Leclerc, but that wouldn't be difficult. Tick. My butler could contact me by satellite phone in case something aboard was wrong. Tick.

But what _really_ made me accept the invitation was that Clarisse would be alone for a few days longer and that she might be jealous when Leclerc told her with whom I would spend my time.

OoOoOoO

I was supposed to return to Triple V in the morning, but I'd planned all along to embark the evening before. The evening after all is a time of day fit for romance and – lucky coincidence- it was full moon. Rupert, after having had one drink too many, had once told me that Clarisse felt sensual when the moon was full.

Clarisse greeted me with a surprised exclamation, a hug and a kiss on my cheek. With a smile she urged me to sit down and with a smile she seated herself next to me, her voluptuous upper body attentively turned toward me.

´Tell me all about your trip Andre.´

I started by saying that my business affairs had been successfully dealt with. Before I'd left for the unexpected hiking tour I'd met the director of a Brazilian company I was a major stockholder in. We'd had dinner at a nightclub. The company was doing fine (which I'd known already) and the club employed several good singers who'd brought a medley of musical songs. I merely told Clarisse about some problems the company had faced and solved. If she, from my phrasing, believed that the meeting had taken several days, so be it.

I expressed my hope that she forgave me for having stayed away longer than expected.

She didn't comment. ´How _was_ the outing?´

´It was lovely,´ I said with a sigh. ´Where shall I start?´

I pretended to give it a thought. She smiled at me.

´I'll start with Nikita if that's all right with you.´

´Nikita?´

´As fine a horse as you've ever seen.´

´Oh!´ Her smile was genuine this time.

Clarisse being a horsewoman (I'd had dreams about her dressed in riding gear) made her appreciate my description of my stallion's temper. I told her about the landscape and its scents but I didn't speak of my companions until she inquired after them.

´I'm confident about Ramiro stepping into his grandfather's footsteps. And I met a ship-owner whom I might do business with.´

´Were they nice people? Did you have a good time?´

´Do you care for some wine?´ I said in a considerate tone of voice.

She swallowed and nodded. I called Leclerc to have wine and snacks brought up to the sun deck.

When I held the door for Clarisse her body language told me what my butler had informed me about already: she hadn't left her suite since I'd disembarked.

It was warm outside. As I placed some pillows on a small wooden deck-couch, she closed her eyes and inhaled the evening air. Despite the anxiety she probably felt a smile curved her sweet lips.

Leclerc brought my order and left.

´Has Leclerc taken good care of you?´

´Absolutely.´

I poured us wine.

´What were we talking about... Oh yes. Well, young Vargas is calm and collected. It's a pity he favours Clancy over Simmel though...´

Clarisse was about to say something but I chatted along about the riders and especially about Senhor Duarte Vargas.

I offered her a snack. She declined it. I took one myself.

´What about Miss Vargas?´

I smiled and cleared my mouth as Clarisse poured herself another glass.

´She is a lively, animated young woman,´ I said warmly. ´She kept expressing that Triple V must be a beautiful yacht. She'd seen pictures of it in a magazine or on the internet or so.´

´Mr Leclerc told me twice that there was a glide plane near: there will be more pictures. ´

´Miguela will like that a lot.´

Clarisse took a few sips of her wine. I looked at the moon, as dreamily lovers do. I felt Clarisse glance at me.

´I'm glad you're back Andre. I missed you.´

She sounded sincere but there was a little insecurity or perhaps vulnerability in her voice that made me continue to stare at the sky and to reply casually: ´I missed you too.´

The waves rippled against the hull. The night was promised filled.

´But?´

I glanced at her, feigning not to understand. ´But?´

´Miss Vargas made nice company, didn't she?´

I put down my glass.

´If you want to invite her here, I'll move to another room Andre.´

Had she pictured being driven from her suite by a passionate Brazilian woman while her love-struck friend stood idly by? I would make a bet she had. I sighed, hiding the thrill I felt.

´Clarisse...´

She took a sip of her wine.

I took her empty glass from her and put it down on an arm rest of the couch. I heard her swallow.

Grabbing her right hand I stared at it as if I was collecting my thoughts.

´Clarisse.´

I waited for her to look at me. I raised her hand toward my chin and shook my head, my lips curved into a small smile.

´She made _tolerable_ company.´

My Queen successfully kept her expression neutral, but a blush graced her cheeks and her pupils dilated.

Not breaking eye-contact I brushed my lips against her knuckles. In a soft low voice I said: ´I've got _you_ under my skin.´

I lowered our hands. My head neared hers. Her eyes shifted from my eyes to my mouth and back again. Her breathing was shallow. Our lips were to meet, but she turned her face away. I couldn't stop my track though.

Her neck had become the offered target and that is where my lips rested: just below her ear instead of on the sensuous mouth she'd denied me.

I kept my kisses feather-light in case she wasn't willing. Her fingertips caressed my cheek. I shivered and looked up. Our eyes locked.

´Andre,´ she whispered.

She swallowed. Her lips parted slightly.

Words failed me. I dragged her toward me and claimed her mouth.

...

...

Author's note: in the coming chapter Andre's relationship with the Queen deepens. He contacts people in Genovia to find out how a little plan of his worked out.


	14. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Her bosom against my chest.

The taste of wine on her lips.

Her hand at the nape of my neck...

Lying in bed alone I replayed the scene of our first kiss including the moment when she'd broken it. I'd feared to hear words of regret and it was with reluctance that I'd opened my eyes.

A look of love had lightened her beautiful face.

It had made me moan.

She'd risen, extending her hand: ´Let's dance.´

She'd initiated a foxtrot. I'd been glad for it: too much physical contact might ruin the romantic mood we were in. This time she hadn't looked away from my admiring glances. There was a promise in her eyes, in her blush. I sensed that it was too soon for the promise to be fulfilled, but when I kissed her goodnight, as was my habit, that kiss was no longer chaste.

I fell asleep with a smile on my face but the next morning I started to worry. _I'd_ had sweet dreams, but _she_ might have tossed and turned in bed, wishing she'd acted differently. Daylight has a habit of making people see things from a different perspective.

When it was time for our Latin class, I took my note-book and a pencil but I couldn't find the book. It annoyed me for today of all days I couldn't be late. I didn't want her to think that I was sorry for our kiss, that I was weary of her company. There was a knock on the door.

´Enter,´ I cried out, ´Leclerc, where's the Latin book?´

´You're cold...´

I turned around sharply.

With her hands behind her back Clarisse closed the door.

´You're getting warmer,´ she said as I approached her.

The twinkle in her eyes made me grin like a moron.

She smiled knowingly and showed me the book she held. ´I asked Mr Leclerc to get it for me. But rest assured: I only used it for repetition. We are on the same level.´

I took her free hand.

´We are, aren't we?´ I said, not referring to our Latin class.

She turned serious and nodded, pressing my hand.

We stared into each other's eyes.

It wasn't until Leclerc knocked on the door that we seated ourselves.

As we noted down new verbs the air between us sizzled with anticipation. Something needed to happen to relieve the tension. Perhaps I might tell her about the interview?

OoOoOoO

Twelve years and some weeks ago a drug addict swayed a knife near King Rupert. Though the attacker claimed not to have wanted to hurt anyone, a guard was rushed to hospital in vain. Clarisse had visited the young man's grave every year on his dying day. She would never have expected a reward for that: comforting his kin was all she hoped to do. As of yet she didn't know that the guard's father had contacted a local rag. It had resulted in an interview, which had also made its way to the rag's internet page.

My hiking tour had not stopped me from executing my daily tasks, one of them being to check the world wide web for news about the lost Queen of Genovia. I'd initiated for the mourning father to be interviewed by a local broadcaster after which I let things runs their course.

As it happened things run into an MP. Living in the same area as the late guard's father he'd seen the broadcast and he had mentioned it to a journalist from an esteemed paper as proof that only the dumb and naive spoke for the Queen. This act was proof of his own stupidity: the journalist had written an article about the interview, and as a result thousands of people had seen the broadcast on the internet. The guard's father was a homely man and he had not been gifted with a silver tongue. It made the whole thing very authentic.

OoOoOoO

Clarisse was reading aloud a text about Roman citizenship and I stopped her by kissing her.

´I love to hear you talk,´ I whispered.

´So why do you seek other employment for my lips?´ she softly replied. I didn't have time to answer her: she cupped my face and kissed _me_. Thus ended our class.

In the cause of the day I made some calls to find out how the interview had been received. My sister is one of Her Majesty's subjects who like to rely on other people's opinions. She'd believed her big brother when he'd stated that the Queen was innocent, so in that respect she _didn't_ represent the average Genovian. I was curious to learn what she'd thought of the interview.

´He's the first in a long time who said she's innocent. Of course you said that too Andy, but he said so _on TV_. My friend Bernice says that _he_ has no reason to lie. I guess she meant to say that _you do_, because you're the Queen's friend and all. She just felt like insulting me I guess, because she _then_ said that the guard's father looked _genuine_. As if _you_ aren't genuine! Well, I just won't invite her for my coming dinner party. Have you seen that man looking at the camera as if it was going to eat him? Haha! But is _was_ moving,´ Val checked herself. ´Oh, that _poor_ man. Losing your son, and he was so _young_. If one of my boys would... Oh no, I don't even want to _think_ about it!´

I heard a sound in the background and I knew that Val was knocking on wood. I let her chat about losses, knowing that eventually she'd return to the subject on hand. ´And as that man stood by his son's grave, which had a lovely headstone by the way, I wonder whether the royal family paid for that? Anyway, I realised that _she_ had lost her husband _and_ her son. And now this! I told everyone I know about the interview so they will hear that the Queen is a kind compassionate lady who wouldn't hurt a soul.´

My cousin wasn't pleased with the broadcast: ´Some people are dumb enough to believe that idiot,´ he complained. ´He reasoned that because that woman told him she was grateful that his son had saved the King's live, she couldn't have killed him herself later on. I mean!´

Charlotte Kutaway sounded as if she was on the verge of a breakdown. ´I was _so glad_ someone _finally_ stood up for her,´ she told me, ´Why didn't _I_ do that? I feel horrible for just sitting here, working for her son as if nothing happened.´

´I think she would be happy to learn that you're the prince's aid,´ I assured her.

´The prince had his mentor come over from the abbey. And then there's Mabrey and his ilk. _I_ can't influence the prince sir... I don't have any _proof_ that she didn't do it, apart from just _knowing_ that she didn't. Even _Joe_ hadn't found evidence who had killed His Majesty so how am _I_ suppose to find it?´

´You're the conscience of the Castle Charlotte,´ I told her.

She didn't reply.

´How did Her Majesty's servants respond to the interview?´

´Some of them recalled aloud how she personally picked the roses for the young guard's grave. They're _talking_ about her again.´

The royal servants weren't the only ones who now recalled that once upon a time they had a beloved Queen. In a few days' time the support for the guard's father's words rose from sixteen to twenty-five percent, though a small number of the posters merely acknowledged that the Queen hadn't _always_ been evil.

Where would it lead to?

Since plotting Romero's death the idea of helping Clarisse to return to her country had entered my mind. The small advertisements reading 'she is innocent' I had placed in local Genovian papers would not very likely result in Clarisse taking possession of her throne. _Should_ she become Queen regent again the adds _would_ serve to silently prove that I'd supported her even _before_ I'd became her lover. The TV interview with the guard's father was another cup of tea. When I'd arranged for it I had acted on impulse. I wasn't going to scold myself for that though: the timing had been right and I might as well allow myself to be spontaneous when it concerned _her_. I need not be afraid that I was losing my wits for most of the time my mind worked in ways not befitting a romantic lover.

OoOoOoO

We were watching an old James Bond film. I loved the way Clarisse comfortably settled herself against me. I loved caressing her upper arm with my fingers. I loved her ironic comments on 007's actions. I loved the fact that the adventures made her laugh.

´These past months I came to love you,´ I softly lied, ´For years we'd been friends though I think you know that I had a bit of a crush on you.´

She softly chuckled because of my teenage phrasing. I moved my arm around her waist, resting my hand on her hip.

´Ever since... you know... I came to admire your strength. And one day I realised that I – a private man- had come to love your daily presence.´

Perhaps one day it would be convenient if she realised that a man who _loves_ might be capable of a lot of things to conquer his love whereas a man _having a crush_ merely visits his beloved as often as he can, bringing her presents and flowers.

Clarisse placed a hand on my arm.

´I think there was no way _not_ to love you after I read the birthday present you wrote me,´ I continued.

´Really? Why?´

´It _moved_ me Clarisse.´

She shifted to look at me. A lover stared back at her. She swallowed hard and cupped my cheek. There was an explosion on the TV screen, but neither she nor I cared. I gently pulled her toward me.

Holding and kissing Clarisse... I could do it all day long. My hands longed to be glued to her shoulders, her waist, her back. My lips wanted to caress her skin.

Had she reminded me _in between kisses_ about my promise to allow her to roam the yacht, I might have said: ´Right now´ without giving it a thought. I was glad that it was not her style to take advantage of a situation. She had brought up the subject during lunch and though I'd enjoyed the way the sunlight had danced on her hair I'd calmly said that I would make arrangements.

Once I allowed my love free access to Triple V I would have to prevent my crew from contacting the outside world. The fact that the Genovian Queen had found refuge aboard my yacht should remain a secret for now.

OoOoOoO

Two days later on twenty-eight point seven percent of those who'd commented the TV broadcast agreed with the guard's father. Things moved slowly in Genovia. Aboard Tripple V I found myself in a current: my caresses had become bolder _and my darling had not stopped me_.

Any day now I would be able to open my best bottle of cognac.

...

...

Author's note: in the coming chapter Andre will prepare the crew for the revealation of the Queen's presence. He continues to court his beloved Clarisse.


	15. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

A jacuzzi has romantic potential but when I'd used mine I'd always been alone. Considering the things I'd done to support Clarisse's cause I felt I deserved a treat.

I invited Clarisse to have drinks and snacks on the sun deck. When I arrived there she was looking at the mosaic of the water-lilies. Naturally she noticed that I was wearing a bathrobe. Clarisse had never seen me in anything but suits, evening costumes and, occasionally, trousers and a jersey. A bathrobe was very casual indeed but at this point in our relationship and in the present setting it was acceptable to wear such clothing in her presence. With perfect timing the jacuzzi started peeping to announce that the desired temperature had been reached. I allowed myself a small private smile at that.

Since our first kiss Clarisse had touched my chest through a layer of clothes. Had she appreciated my body? My legs are long and well shaped, my shoulders are broad and I'm one of those lucky people who can eat anything without gaining weight. Years of working out had left me muscled. I longed for her to long for me. To want me as much as I wanted her. To give her sensual hot dreams...

´Would you mind if I enjoyed the jacuzzi darling?´ I said, walking her to a deck chair.

She seated herself.

´Of course not.´

I handed her a soda. Before she had time to look away I dropped my robe on my chair, revealing all of me in fashionable swimming trunks. I had to haste to get in but I think she blushed.

After I'd seated myself she cleared her throat: ´How's the water?´

´Delicious,´ I said.

We were silent for a moment. I then asked her whether she liked _A clash of kings_ as much as she'd liked _A game of thrones_. She replied affirmatively and we spent some twenty minutes discussing theories about the books. Halfway her comment on Petyr Baelish I got out of the jacuzzi. For a delightful moment her voice halted.

OoOoOoO

Of my crew members Leclerc and the cook were Genovian. The others all came from monarchies too: Denmark, the Netherlands and Norway.

In my dealings with my employees I never mentioned the situation in Genovia but I _had _asked my butler whether the Queen was ever a subject of discussion. He'd replied that he had told the crew more than once that Her Majesty was innocent. The cook would then reply that justice could not err in Genovia at which point the first officer would disagree with him. The other sailors always supported the first officer.

It was time to share lunch with my staff.

I'm regarded as an easily accessible gentleman, not at all arrogant and still every inch His Lordship. The crew and I talked in a relaxed way and shared some laughs. Knowing that the steward who was sitting next to me was a film addict, I made a remark about _Air force one_ which I'd seen the previous evening. Clarisse – leaning against me, her long elegant legs stretched out on the sofa and her fingers entwined with mine- had liked Glenn Close's vice-president and she'd been disappointed that the part was so small.

´Wasn't there a film in which Harrison Ford played alongside Tommy Lee Jones?´ I asked the steward.

He immediately provided me with the title.

´Wasn't that about Ford being falsely accused of some crime?´ the engineer asked.

´Yeah,´ the steward replied, ´he got framed for killing his wife. Didn't do it of course but Jones was after him anyway.´ Addressing me he asked: ´Have you seen it sir?´

´No I haven't,´ I said, ´I like the actors but now that I know what it is about I doubt I want to watch it. The theme seems too familiar.´

The steward gave it a thought.

´Because of your Queen sir?´ the first officer remarked.

I nodded. ´I'm privileged to say that I am a close friend of the Genovian royal family,´ I said as if they wouldn't know, ´What happened, both to the King and to the Queen is horrible.´

´_You_ don't think that she did it either?´

´Her Majesty is a gentle lady. She would never have killed the King.´

´But he _was_ killed right? Poisoned?´

´That's what the autopsy concluded.´

´I hope you don't mind me saying so sir, but unless the murderer is found, your Queen's the pisang.´

´Excuse me?´

´He means that she's in trouble sir,´ a countryman of the officer explained.

´Basically she's convicted because of gossip,´ the officer continued. ´And if the real killer isn't convicted the gossip will never stop.´

´The judges said she was guilty,´ the cook remarked, looking at his plate.

´What happened was that a letter was found, with vague accusations, and somehow that letter vanished, which is suspicious...´ the officer stopped talking to look at me. I nodded my agreement, though I, who was responsible for the letter's brief appearance in history, would have used the term _smart_.

´Then your King turned out to be murdered and then people said it might be the Queen's doing 'cause he was cheating on her. And _she_ said she didn't do it, but the prosecutor said that she had a motive and the opportunity, and there you are.´

´Genovia is a _decent_ country,´ the cook objected.

´Decent people can err,´ I replied, giving the officer another nod.

´What if someone said that he heard someone say that you are a paedophile,´ the officer enthusiastically suggested to the cook.

´I'm _not_!´

´I believe you! But the police might investigate and they would find out that you live near an elementary school – just for argument's sake!- so you have the opportunity to... you know. You'll keep saying you never even_ look_ at children but the parents of the kids going to that school will want someone caught and you end up in jail.´

´Ha!´ the cook replied. ´No one _wanted_ the Queen to be caught!´

´They didn't lift a finger to help her.´

´Not even her own _son_ did so. What do you think _that_ means?´ the piqued cook replied.

The officer was silent for a moment. ´Politics?´

OoOoOoO

´I don't want to go over this again Andre,´ prince Pierre had told me when I'd called him the other day. ´Arthur Mabrey showed me the message you left on the internet. You're not much of a help. People get confused!´

His Royal Highness refered to a message on the internet site of the paper that had published the Piaf interview. It read that only words like kind and caring were fit to describe the Queen and that I longed for Genovia to realise that. Signed Lord Sadique.

´People are acting like ostriches. And so are you.´

´Don't forget whom you're talking too!´

Seriously!

´I'm talking to a boy who was devoted to his loving mother. A mother who didn't hesitate to support him when he made a life changing decision even though -´

My phone went peep peep peep.

OoOoOoO

´I'm inclined to agree with you,´ I lied, addressing the first officer. The other crew members nodded and with so much opposition facing him the cook hesitatingly murmured that politics _could_ have caused the prince to act a part.

´Now for something different,´ I said. ´You all know that pirates never grew extinct. I think it's time for a _get the hell of my ship_ exercise.´

The men grinned. I divided them into two teams of pirates and told them that each team should come up with a worked out attack plan, including everything from how to get near the ship to how to secure it.

´I want the what, the when, the how, the why,´ I summarised. ´The day after tomorrow I will listen to your plans.´

I nodded at Leclerc and then excused myself, leaving enthusiastic navy seals and hoping to find a warm welcome in my Queen's suite.

She was writing at her desk and she was so focused that I could indulge in one of my favourite pastimes: watching her in secret. Her back was straight and her ankles were crossed as if she were observed by her subjects.

I loved her.

She didn't notice me until I was standing near enough to touch her.

´Hel_lo_,´ she said, pleasantly surprised to see me already.

I kissed her neck.

´Hmm,´ she replied, putting the cap on her pen.

I continued my caresses, ignoring the eyes watching me from the desk. Clarisse had attached the printed pictures of Amelia and Pierre to cardboard from a box of tea-bags and she'd made a stand from the same material. She'd repeatedly asked me to search the internet for a picture of Joseph and at last I'd handed her the picture from my royal album showing Rupert, myself and the bodyguard in the background. Every time I saw it, resting against a pen case, the words _survival of the fittest_ entered my mind.

I nibbled her ear-lobe. Her breath caught. I went for her lips. Being hungry I didn't control my need. When at last we parted, her cheeks were flushed and her lips must have tingled as much as mine did. She cupped my face.

´I love you Andre,´ she whispered huskily.

There.

I swallowed hard and reverently kissed her forehead.

Almost mine.

I walked us to the sofa and waited for her to be seated before sitting down next to her.

´Leclerc will have told the crew about my proposition by now.´

´What kind of proposition?´

´They have to hand over their private communication devices and they have to have their mails read and sent by me.´

She raised her eyebrows. ´That doesn't sound like a _proposition_.´

´Well, the idea is that _if_ they agree they can continue to work for me. If they don't they will have to leave. There's a harbour at a day and a half sailing.´

´Does this have to do with me roaming the yacht?´

I nodded and took her hand in mine. ´Of course Leclerc will not tell them about you. They will be told it has to do with being informed about security devices aboard.´

´But you're not going to employ them forever anyway so -´

She stopped talking when I winked at her.

´They might reason just like you. They'll think I'm being eccentric, but the wages are fine, the accommodations are excellent and this _is_ a super yacht. Last but not least they are former navy seals: they are used to their communications being censured. I doubt any of them will want to leave.´

I caressed her fingers with my dumb.

´Those who stay will be told that I have a guest aboard.´

Clarisse gave me a small smile. ´You can't censure people for _years_ Andre.´

´I won't need to do that. Genovia will come -´

´Please don't finish that line,´ she interrupted as she rose.

´Darling?´

´Genovia thinks I'm _guilty_. The people have thought so for months and they will _not_ change their minds!´

´They will,´ I said.

She made a throatily sound.

´You may be able to control your crew Andre, but an entire _country _can't be told what to think.´

She sighed and shook her head.

Staring at her back I was determined that what she believed to be impossible _would_ happen. Again.

I licked my well kissed lips.

When it came to The Bedding I didn't want to play her, as I'd done on other occasions. She ought to know that there might be another future besides growing old aboard my yacht. I would tell her about the increasing support for her cause and in doing so I'd hit two birds with one stone for I myself didn't want to have to worry about whether or not I'd become her lover partly for having been her last resort.

´I realise that Clarisse,´ I replied to her remark. ´But I believe that Genovia will think for itself. Mr Piaf contacted a journalist from a local paper. He spoke in your defence.´

´Jean Piaf's father?´

´Yes.´

She turned around, her expression showing surprise and pleasure.

´I made sure that he was interviewed by a local broadcaster. Many people have seen the TV interview on the internet. This morning thirty-four percent of the responders agreed with him.´

´On what?´ she softly said.

´That you would never have killed Rupert,´ I summarized freely.

Her lips curved into a smile that soon faded away.

´Thirty-four...´

Thirty-four percent of 'many people' need not be a lot. Clarisse was right if she thought so, but she didn't know that a worried Von Troken had started a counter-movement. It was poorly staged for it merely centred around ridiculing the guard's father.

´Not all people who watch the interview feel compelled to leave a reply my dear. I think -´

I stopped talking when she shook her head. She walked toward me and held my hands.

´Mr Piaf going to the paper, was that _his_ initiative?´

´It was. He did so shortly after his son's dying day.´

She briefly closed her eyes. ´And _you_ made sure that his story made it to TV.´

I nodded. She searched my face, then pressed my hands.

´Thank you,´ she simply said.

´Every day there are more people who saw the interview,´ I said, ´and the number of supporters is always rising.´

She gave me a feeble smile. ´Numbers go up and down... Tell me if Parliament starts re-discussing my case, but no sooner Andre...please.´

´If _you_ promise me not to give up on hope.´

She eyed me for a moment and then slowly pulled my head toward her to kiss me.

When I linked my hands behind her back she broke our kiss. ´When I asked you if I could roam the yacht, I never realised that my presence might be revealed by your crew. Nor did I realise that my freedom would limit theirs... I don't want them to be deprived of seeing their relatives for months or years Andre. I'd rather keep to two decks instead. After all, I've got everything I need.´

´You're sweet,´ I said, caressing her cheek. ´But if you think I don't know that you're walking up and down the stairs like a caged lioness, you're mistaken.´

She blushed. ´It's just to have some exercise,´ she objected.

Shaking my head I smiled at her.

´What did you just promise me about hope? I won't take months dear heart.´

OoOoOoO

My pirates had indulged themselves in making up fantastic plans to board the ship.

´I myself would choose the option presented by the captain,´ I said, ´it is simple and it can be done at low costs.´

The captain had not been in either team. His idea had been to have pirates pass for suppliers.

´But _our_ pirates would have more fun sir,´ the engineer said with a grin.

I had them shoot at each others ideas and though there were flaws in both plans, they hesitatingly concluded that they were manageable.

The captain knocked on a locked panel hiding some interesting buttons. ´Lord Sadique has a way to fight pirates. No matter how they board the ship,´ he said, making it sound as if he'd known about it all along, rather than for just an hour. He didn't take his eyes of the monitors. The other crew members on duty also managed to combine work and pleasure as they listened to and contributed to the pirate talk. The wheel-house was a bit crowded.

´After Mr Leclerc told you about my proposition you probably guessed that you wouldn't have to fight pirates with a kitchen knife?´

The men glanced at each other. I eyed each and every one of them.

´I'm glad you all chose to stay aboard.´

They nodded and murmured things like ´Sure sir´ and ´Wouldn't wanna leave this beauty´.

´I spent good money on this yacht and I will not have her boarded by a bunch of criminals.´

I told them about my toys for boys and the look on their faces made me feel like Santa Claus. I didn't have a new microwave in my sleigh: the cook seemed a bit lost. He hadn't been assigned to a pirates' team and he must be wondering why he'd been summoned.

´In case of an emergency myself or my butler will make sure that the door to the owner's deck is opened,´ I informed my men. ´Behind the door you'll find a winding staircase. At the top to the left there's a galley, behind it a storage slash laundry room. There's also an elevator, going straight to the deck on water level. To the right there's a corridor. Going left you will find my cabin.´

´In case of an attack, do you want armed men to come to you sir?´ the captain asked.

´As soon as the alarm sounds, I will haste to the guest suite on the owner's deck. And that's where I want some seals to go too... to protect my guest if need be.´

I could read the captain's back as if it were a book. He didn't like it that he hadn't been informed about a stowaway. The crew was surprised to say the least, but they didn't comment. The first officer thoughtfully tilted his head.

´I doubt anyone will find out about my guest being here, but if her hiding is discovered, people, as things are standing now, will want to capture her.´

The sailors glanced at each other. I lingered my gaze on the first officer.

´Your Queen,´ he slowly said.

The film-addict wanted to laugh, but he checked himself when I nodded.

´WOW!´ he cried out.

It became rather noisy then. The men were surprised and thrilled as well as impressed by my cunning. Added to that was pride of somehow being part of the rescue mission. The cook paled.

´I guess you now understand the _real_ reason why communications need to be restricted.´

The men assured me that they would never betray my Queen. I nodded in reply.

´In the past months I advised Her Majesty against roaming the ship. With only negative news coming from Genovia I thought it was the best thing to do. However, tidings have become optimistic: there's a growing group of people who believe that the accusations that led to her conviction are false. I think it will not take long before she will sit her throne again. I'd say that it is _about time_ for my Queen to enjoy everything the yacht has to offer.´

The sailors agreed with me.

´Until she can return to Genovia I need _you_ to protect her from those who mean her harm.´

´Ay sir!´ they cried out.

´Tomorrow I will introduce the captain and the first officer to Her Majesty.´

OoOoOoO

I knew Clarisse well so I sensed that she was a little tense to meet the two senior officers, but the moment she stepped unto the deck under the owner's deck I could no longer detect any nervousness.

Even after her kind words of greeting the anxious officers hadn't mastered their tongues and it wasn't until she voiced her regret that _her_ freedom of movement would imprison _their_ freedom of speech, that they were finally able to reply.

They assured her that they were still able to contact their family and friends by mail, not telling her about the restrictions they'd accepted.

Served by Leclerc the four of us had lunch in a conference room.

The officers were in awe for her but Clarisse was used to people being speechless near her and she charmingly and intelligently carried on the conversation. We spent an altogether pleasant hour and then the officers resumed their duties. I figured that the rest of the crew was waiting for them to hear all about their meeting with the Queen of Genovia. I didn't doubt that the report would be highly favourable.

I showed Clarisse the entire deck and to my pleasure she admired everything she saw. I asked her whether she would want to see the rest of the yacht and meet the other crew members right now. Typically she wanted to know whether the crew was expecting to meet her today. I replied negatively which made her decline my suggestion. I wasn't surprised: I could imagine that it might be overwhelming for her. Her thoughtfulness toward the sailors was touching: those idiots in Genovia didn't know what they were missing.

I spent the afternoon in my office managing my estate as well as working on project TTR: The Triumphant Return.

OoOoOoO

That evening I joined Clarisse in her suite. She was in a merry mood.

We talked and caressed each other with our eyes. We laughed and held hands. We danced and kissed. We parted from our embrace and sighed. She caressed my cheek. Our evenings had always ended like this since our first kiss. I said my lines on cue: ´Time to get some sleep. I will take my- ´

She placed a finger on my lips and shook her head. Grabbing my hand she stepped backwards. She took another step and I moved forward. I was like an extension of our dance. Our eyes were locked. She was enchanting, luring. When I could safely conclude that she was not leading me to the exit but to her bedroom, a groan escaped my throat.

I picked her up to carry her to my favourite setting aboard.


	16. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

I rolled off her. My breath was panting, my heart beat was accelerated, her scent lingered in my nose, her taste was on my lips, her cries of pleasure echoed in my ears and my skin tingled.

I laid on my back, reaching for her hand. Her fingers squeezed mine.

I closed my eyes, overwhelmed with pure joy.

We lay there for a while until: ´Andre?´

Unable to speak I made a small sound in reply.

´You're not,´ she breathed, ´falling asleep... are you?´

Her voice, slightly hoarse, was bewitching. I looked at her.

Those eyes of hers... they sparkled in the dimly lit room. They were teasing, promising, longing. She smiled like a naughty angel. Cheeks flushed, lips swollen, skin glowing, pupils large. Her hand drew circles around my nipples. When I was about to move, she placed her hand on my moist chest to prevent me from rolling over.

´Now it's _my_ turn to be on top,´ she whispered.

That smile of hers...

She took her time, teasing the sensitive skin around my eyes and nose and moving her other hand up and down my thighs until I begged her to torture me no longer.

Her nails moved to my nipples and my abdomen, but not too long: she gracefully seated herself on my stomach and bent forward to lick and nibble my lips.

My hands moved from her behind to her rotating hips. I intended to roll us over, but she sensed it and finally mounted me.

Afterwards I held her in my arms and I cried silent tears while she yawned sensuously. I felt her wander off to dream-land. When I kissed her head she made a small sound that made me want to hold her until the end of time. I slipped out of bed nonetheless. After giving her fair luscious body a last look, I devotedly covered her with a blanket.

OoOoO

The Morning After I softly entered her suite for our Latin class. She was standing at the dinner table with her back toward the door. I tip-toed toward her.

It startled her when I suddenly moved my arm around her. Between my thumb and index-finger I held a freshly made origami rose.

´Oh Andre...´

She took the white flower and bent her head, raising my gift to her nose.

´Does it look _that_ real?´ I said with a chuckle in my voice.

She blushed. ´It _is_ beautiful.´

´Compared to a piece of paper, it is.´

Gently pulling her against me I added: ´Compared to the woman in my arms, it is quite ordinary.´

´Charmer,´ she softly said.

´Lover,´ I countered.

She turned to face me. There were tears in her eyes.

My expression betrayed me before I had found my tongue. She reassuringly shook her head and cupped my cheek.

´I don't regret it. At all. It was perfect.´

I swallowed hard.

´I. Love. You,´ I told her emotionally.

She gave me the most tender look someone had ever given me.

´Kiss me lover,´ she whispered.

I obliged.

OoOoO

She was playful. She was passionate. She was addictive. No two encounters were the same.

I pictured myself in the Castle's hall holding her for all to see.

It was another reason why I wanted project TTR to be a success, though it would take time before we could officially be a pair. Clarisse would not forsake me, but she _would_ want to prepare her subjects for the fact that she had found herself a partner. _I _didn't want people to start gossiping about us. I recalled Elsie Penworthy's article about Clarisse and her bodyguard and I didn't want my beloved Queen to be called names again.

Once we'd returned to Genovia I'd have to act as a family friend for many weeks, even months. Of course I was already playing the part for our audience of crew members. Calling her ma'am or Your Majesty in front of them even turned me on. By courtesy of Leclerc's intelligence I knew that in their eyes she was charming, kind and elegant. I guessed that because of her age and her low key sex appeal the sailors wouldn't be able to see the woman behind the poised Queen, but _I_, her lover (_her lover!_) knew how to make this poised lady of mine wriggle on her bed.

It would be hard to act like a friend when there would be no divine nights for some time. It already made me feel down but it didn't stop me from promoting her Triumphant Return. When a Mrs Edith Nuit who had witnessed King Rupert die (my friend had breath his last when he was about to make a public speech) sent a letter to a newspaper, I typed a message in support of her letter while in my mind's eye I saw Clarisse grabbing the sheets in mindless ecstasy.

Nuit's letter read:

_I was there when King Rupert collapsed. The Queen rushed toward him. I'm ashamed to admit that once the Queen was convicted for killing the King I reasoned that she'd come to make sure he would die without informing anyone about his suspicions. After seeing the interview with Mr Piaf, I remembered something else: they talked and she cried. He kissed her hand and he smiled at her through his pain. And he's supposed to have thought she planned to kill him? I DON'T BELIEVE IT ANYMORE._

Though I'd known for a fact that Rupert hadn't had a clue as to the potential of the 'healthy potion' I'd supplied, I _had_ been curious about what my dying King had said during his final moments. Several weeks after my Queen had become a widow I'd tentatively asked her about her last moments with our dear friend. She had merely replied that he knew his end was near and that his last words had been words of parting.

OoOoOoO

When it came to written information about my Queen, I didn't miss a thing. It was my sister who informed me about a heated debate on a public broadcaster in our home country.

´I normally don't watch that program because it's so _serious_,´ Valerie told me, ´but well, I'd heard that they were going to discuss the Nuit letter, and I figured you would want to know about that so I watched it especially for you just in case the satellite wouldn't work again. Isn't that sweet of me?´

´Yes it is Val, thank you.´

´That's OK Andy! Anyway... At first it was really boring. Then they started talking about witnesses of crimes and how memories get messed up. The prosecutor from the Queen's trial was there and he said that things like that happen all the time. He must be right because I tried to recall what I ate for breakfast yesterday and I was only sure about my egg. Of course I eat an egg every morning, so I can hardly fail there, now can I? What was I... Oh yes. Mrs Nuit was there too and she said that she saw what she saw. And than that man started saying things like: let's pretend His Majesty really smiled, who says that he didn't smile because he knew that sooner or later she'd be caught? And Mrs Nuit repeated what she'd said and the prosecutor hushed her and she got angry and she cried out that he'd been mistaken. Valentin watched the program too and he believes that in the end things will just remain the way they are. Do you think so too?´

´No!´ I instantly said. ´That wouldn't be right.´

´Of course it wouldn't be _right_. But Valentin says that for many people it _will_ be convenient.´

There was no doubt about that. It would be convenient for the prosecutor, for the judges, for the guards at the House of Justice, for the crowd who'd thrown mud at her, for the MPs who'd insulted her...

My efforts so far had made the people of Genovia discuss the trial but in order to gather a welcoming party I would have to hand them a murderer... Framing Romero wouldn't do, but there happened to be a man-servant of Rupert, who'd died within months after his King. There had been rumours about him having committed suicide for his job had meant the world to him. The fact that he had had neither family nor friends was convenient for it limited the chances that anyone would object if he turned out to be His Majesty's murderer. It was one of my options.

While I'd been thinking my sister had talked along: ´...that the search for the Queen should be picked up again so she could be questioned again, and someone else said she should simply be brought to jail and a woman with a head-shawl said that the government had probably helped the Queen escape to Argentina -why do they always come up with Argentina? I mean the Queen's hardly a Nazi now is she? Mrs Nuit said that the Queen should be rescued because she'd be all alone without anyone to support her and someone else said that he didn't care at all how the Queen was doing. He said that as far as he was concerned she could have starved to death. A gentleman said that it was a good thing the Queen hadn't been executed but that it was best for the monarchy and the country if she did not return to Genovia.´

Val took a breath. ´A psychiatrist said that it was never good not to have closure. All in all it ended up in people yelling and making rude gestures... It was a real mess. Valentin said it was a shame. And the host just _stood_ there!´

Genovian fools... A day didn't pass by without the Queen sharing loving memories with me about her country and its people. She'd describe the mountains in the south of Genovia or fondly recall the children of her employees singing for her on Christmas eve. Would it change the minds of her subjects if they'd know about that? How would they feel if they knew that their Queen had been concerned that with her alleged rescuer being killed her supporters would worry for her well being? I had told her that those who believed that Joe had saved her life would think that he had taken every possible precaution to keep her safe. It had made sense to her, even though for all Joe's good intentions he had not been able to get her out of the swamp.

I smelled at my fingers where Clarisse's scent lingered. Honey.

Val was still babbling though the subject had changed: ´...feel for Louis. But I told him that he wouldn't want to hurt his relationship with his son and that made him think for the last thing I heard is that he _will_ attend the wedding.´

I concluded that my sister was talking about baron De Guisse. He had been an admirer of Her Majesty, though as far as I knew he hadn't defended her publicly.

´It will be the first wedding of a De Guisse heir in over four hundred years without a King or Queen to witness it,´ I remarked.

´Danielle, she's the bride remember? She's _pregnant_. I guess she didn't want to wait any longer. And frankly Andy I can't blame her. She's still slim now, well, as far as slim goes with _her_ build, and what is she supposed to do? She can't prevent the baby from being born and then it would be a bastard! If the Queen is still alive, surely she will understand, don't you think so Andre?´

I mumbled a reply. My sister didn't stop talking about the subject until her butler announced that dinner was being served.

OoOoOoO

The next morning, after yet another memorable night, which had partly taken place in Clarisse's shower, I absent mindedly checked for global news. A headline in _The Guardian _drew my attention. It read: _Prince Regent of Genovia wants investigation of Queen's trial_.

I anxiously clicked on the link. Apparently _The Guardian_ had been contacted by 'a reliable source' who'd revealed that His Royal Highness, encouraged by the support his people expressed toward the Queen his mother, felt it was time to re-investigate the accusations that had led to her trial.

I'd spoken to Pierre several days ago and his evasive replies to my remarks concerning his mother had not prepared me for this bold idea of his.

_Is a Queen above the law?_ columnist Archibald Jones wrote. _She isn't, _he concluded. _But_ _I read the transcript of the trial and there's a tang about it. The prosecutor seemed to have been both repulsed and fascinated by Her Majesty, asking her questions that seemingly served to find out about her 'motive' but that were in fact oddly personal. _

I had not deemed it wise to act as a prompter for the most ambitious prosecutor I'd found for the part. The trial would cause the Queen grief and it would be humiliating. I hadn't wanted a speaking part in that. As a casting director I'd proved successful: the prosecutor hadn't needed a speech writer.

Mr Jones, after ridiculing the 'proof' based on which Her Majesty had been sentenced guilty, remarked that so far the prince publicly had barely said a word about his mother. Jones suggested that His Royal Highness, who was at the moment a guest of the English King and Queen, had been advised by the royal couple to finally speak out.

I thought it over. It _was_ possible that Their Majesties had succeeded where myself and others had failed. I reasoned that the information had been 'leaked' to find out how the people of Genovia would react. Should they disapprove of the idea, then the spokesman of House Renaldi would simply say that the paper's source had made up the story.

_The Guardian's_ article had of course found its way to the websites of Genovian papers. Several well known Genovians -ranging from politicians to writers and business tycoons- stated that they understood the prince's reasoning and that they applauded a re-investigation into the accusations. Good. As for my own response: the prosecutor did not know me and there was nothing that could be linked to me. Last but not least Pierre's idea would be beneficial to my project.

Throughout the day I tried to contact the prince. My call was finally answered by an aide-de-camp. I asked him whether Miss Kutaway had taken ill and he told me that she had not joined the prince on his visit. The officer connected me to His Royal Highness.

´I was pleasantly surprised to read the article in _The Guardian_ Your Highness,´ I told Pierre.

´I need not ask _you_ whether I should do it, do I?´ he replied without the smile in his voice one would expect.

´Do you now have doubts about your plan?´

´This wasn't my doing Andre,´ he said with a sigh. ´It's getting a favourable reception though, I suppose my people want me to go through with it.´

I forced myself to inhale and exhale before replying.

´Andre?´

´Pierre, your mother is innocent.´

´I would like to believe that Andre, but how can I if there's _no proof_?´

´You believe in God. Do you have proof -´

´Stop it! It's different.´

´Your God teaches you not to judge yet you -´

´_I_ didn't judge. The _judges_ did so.´

´They. Didn't. Have. Proof.´

Pierre cleared his throat.

´That's what you say. Who am I to believe?´

´Your memory. Your heart. Your soul.´

Pierre sighed. ´I remember a father whom I loved. He was killed. Andre, let me speak my mind.´

´Please do,´ I curtly said.

´My people will have to go through the whole ordeal again when I decide to re-open the investigation. She's been missing for months now. Some say she starved to death in the hiding place Romero made her. Is it worth it?´

I closed my eyes. I wanted to hold Clarisse. What could I say to persuade her disappointing son to do the right thing?

´I hired some detectives to track Her Majesty. The trail is getting warm.´

´Really?´

I couldn't have said why Pierre decided to actually re-open the investigation: because there might be a chance he could be reunited with his mother or because she might be available to be locked away.

Whatever the reason, project TTR had made a step forward.

After Pierre broke the connection I felt tired. Still, there was something I needed to know for sure. I checked my watch. It was late in London and later still in Pyrus. I dialled a number.

For the first time in months Miss Kutaway sounded cheerful. It was all the confirmation I needed. I told Charlotte how glad I was that the Prince had decided to re-investigate. She reminded me that there had not yet been a confirmation from court. I said that the Prince had just informed me that he _would_ re-open the investigation.

She started crying, but though I couldn't see her face, I knew she was expressing her relief.

´Charlotte?´

´Yes Lord Sadique?´

´Well done!´

A stunned silence entered my ear.

´How did -,´ she started, but she didn't finish her question.

´I rescued her diaries,´ she continued in a whisper. ´I told the paper that they could publish parts of it. From the time when His Majesty died. It's the only way I can prove that she's innocent.´

My thoughtful silence lasted longer than she could bare.

´Lord Sadique?´

´It might work.´

...

...

In the coming chapter Andre will continue to promote Clarisse's return to her country. This will cause ´breaking news´ in Genovia.

Author's note: I hope that chapter 15 isn't going to be the third chapter in a row without any reviews...


	17. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Clarisse's nails raked my back and in a flash I wondered if she would remember that and note it down in her journal. Then she moaned and there was only she, I and completion.

After she fell asleep the thought returned though. She kept her diary in her unlocked desk. I _could_ sneak out of bed… No, I _wouldn't, _for one because I wanted to enjoy her nearness and warmth for a few moments longer. Soon after we'd become lovers she'd asked me to stay with her until the morning and I'd told her that I couldn't because of Leclerc: what if he found out about us? She pretended not to care, saying that he was a discrete man, but when I said that _he_ might be discrete but that _I_ was a gentleman, she objected no longer.

It _was_ tempting to fall asleep next to her, to reach out in the middle of the night and feel a breast under my palm. She was lying on her back, her favorite sleeping position. I caressed her right shoulder and it made her stir. Was she reliving our lovemaking? She _wouldn't_ dream about selections from her journal being published, for I had kept that information from her.

My fascination with Clarisse's diary had started when Charlotte had told me that she would hand _The Guardian _entries about ´Her Majesty's er... relationship with the King.´ Without thinking I'd asked the secretary whether the writings weren't _too personal_. She had exclaimed that she would never have _that_ published. I'd made her believe that _that_ hadn't been on my mind by reassuring her that I knew she was too smart to select remarks about disagreements between the King and Queen. Charlotte had told me that Genovia would be able to draw one conclusion only: Her Majesty _had_ been fond of her husband, just as she'd stated in court.

I looked at my sleeping beauty, who had seen her husband as her friend, but who _loved _me.

My darling would not like it that her diary was being made public, something Charlotte had been aware of also or she wouldn't have mentioned that Her Majesty had once told her that she planned to leave her journals to the Royal Archive. The secretary had conveniently forgotten to mention that nothing would be published by the Archive until fifty years after the Queen's death. I'm sure that the moment the Queen Clarisse files in the Archive are opened, journalists will fight to see them. Our contemporaries were certainly anxious to get to know their Queen: the first papers that had arrived at Pyrus airport had been sold out in a minute. The early birds had then read about Her Majesty returning to the Castle after attending the opening night of a 'Hamlet' production. She'd written that she hoped to find the King waiting for her and she was glad that he had come to her suite. Rupert had listened to her review of the play and he'd guessed that when talking to the director and the actors she'd emphasized the few nice things she'd seen rather than the performance's many flaws. The charming writings proved three things: in the privacy of her diary Queen Clarisse spoke her mind, she was concerned for the King's health and His Majesty and she had been attracted to each other. Brava Charlotte for selecting the fragment.

OoOoOoO

On returning from Clarisse's suite I noticed the light of my answering machine flashing. I wanted to sleep and dream of my beloved, but the second part of the diary would have been published by now and a certain someone might want to talk to me. I answered the call.

´It was Charlotte! ´ prince Pierre said right after greeting me. ´I questioned her and she admitted it. I told her it's not right to read someone else's diary, but frankly Andre, I can't find it in myself to blame her. She meant well and my people are responding in a positive way. And no one can doubt it's authentic.´

Never a man to reject a good idea I had the pleasure of having improved the secretary's plan. By my suggestion some of the original pages she'd selected had been tested by an esteemed German lab. An office memo written by the Queen served as a reference and the result had been a perfect match. _The Guardian _had merely planned for a quick analysis of the handwriting but they had accepted the delay caused by the test and they'd published the full report.

It was one of life's little ironies that _Rupert's letter_, the letter that had initiated the investigation into the King's death, would not have passed the test: I'd created it years after he took his fatal dose.

Pierre was chatting about today's revelations: ´- remember those days well. It was a wonderful holiday with the four of us. Father and I had a good long talk. I didn't know Mother had urged him to do so, but well, everything else she wrote about is true. I _know_ it: I was there.´

As Pierre recalled memories, I accessed the home page of _the Guardian_, where the new diary entry had been published by now.

´Yes,´ I said in reply to a remark he made, ´I'm reading it as we speak, it proves that you were a close family.´

´We were. I miss them. Say it must be in the middle of the night at your place.´

´It is. But the time difference with Genovia is getting smaller.´

´You're coming home?´

´Yes I am.´

Silence.

´Have you found her?´

´Yes.´

An intake of breath.

´Good Lord,´ he said with a sigh.

I patiently let him collect his thoughts.

´Is she all right?´ he asked.

Good boy.

´She is.´

´Where is she?´

´I'm not going to tell you that.´

´What?´ he exclaimed after a moment. ´I'm her son!´

´Pierre, I want Her Majesty to enter her country a free woman. Can you guarantee that?´

Seconds ticked away.

´The day after tomorrow her notes of the days following Father's death will be published.´

´What do you expect from it?´

´I hope it shows Mother's grief. Murderers don't grief for people they killed.´

Intelligent people can be completely clueless.

´And what will happen then Pierre?´

´I… What am I to do Andre? Should I let... Have you talked to her? Has she… Have you questioned her about.. you know?´

´For crying out loud! Your mother is a _victim_!´

´I wish _Father_ had kept a journal,´ the prince changed the subject.

´I wish you would stand up for your mother.´

Pierre cleared his throat. ´There was an audience today. Some people came to the Castle just to tell me that they believe the Queen to be innocent.´

´And you told them that justice will take its course?´

´Yes I did,´ the prince said in a mixture of shame and defiance. ´You know me well Andre. And you're not pleased with me, are you? No, don't say a thing.´

I didn't.

Pierre continued, stumbling over his words: ´The trial _changed_ things Andre. The trial and everything that happened _afterward. _Had the accusations been laughed away, had there been a libel suit, then things would have been different. But there _was_ a trial. I told my niece that it _matters_, but she refuses to understand! _You_ don't know what it's like here either. It's… Mabrey and Von Troken don't even want to _discuss_ her being innocent for they don't see the point: they think she might be dead and they're _not_ the only ones.´

´But she is alive. Doesn't that change everything?´

Silence.

´Will you announce it?´

Was it a question or a request? For Clarisse's sake I would memorize it as the latter.

´I understand that you're eager for people to know that the Queen is alive and well. But timing is crucial Pierre. Let _me_ handle it.´

Not surprisingly Pierre agreed to leave everything to me. After finishing the call I went to bed and it seemed as if I'd only been asleep for a few minutes when my alarm clock woke me.

After checking the news I went to the gym to decide which of the plans I'd come up with so far could –in the light of the present situation - mature to execution status.

During morning tea I told Clarisse that I had a lot of business to handle and that unfortunately I wouldn't be able to see her until dinner. Once back in my office I started working. It simply was a matter of setting things into motion for after deciding that Clarisse should regain her throne, I'd been making preparations. Most of the scripts I'd come up with would never see the stage, but in my opinion the money I'd invested in them had not been wasted.

In the evening Clarisse told me about her study of the history of Jerusalem and I replied to what she said, though I was thinking about the news _Mr Kobayashi_ had sent to his mysterious employer. Clarisse sensed that I wasn't quite there. She looked at me worriedly, asking me whether I was tired. I proved to her that I wasn't.

OoOoOoO

The next morning Clarisse kindly inquired after my business affairs. I took the cup of tea she offered me and I told her that I needed to do some dotting and crossing. I begged to be excused until dinner once again.

´Those most be huge i's and t's Andre,´ she said with a smile.

´Well, I'm also going to play squash against the first officer,´ I admitted with a roguish smile, ´And I've got a video conference with my steward.´

Clarisse accompanied me to my suite to get herself a particular book. She didn't linger so I was soon free to pick up project TTR: I called my cousin.

´I'm very glad that there's going to be an investigation into the trial,´ I told him.

´So that news reached you huh? Don't set your hopes high Andre. It will simply prove that there's nothing wrong with Genovia's legal system. Besides, Mabrey and I talked the prince into appointing that incompetent old buffer as head of the investigation. I hope it will give the papers something else to write about: I'm getting sick of people discussing the Queen's diaries all the time. What a shock it will be for them to read the next episode in which she'll express her joy for having killed him.´

´What a shock it will be for you to find out she had nothing to do with his death.´

My cousin made a throatily sound.

´Well,´ he said, ´_she'd_ better _be_ dead.´

´Excuse me?´

´Mabrey was convinced that the prince was of the same mind,´ Von Troken continued, ´But this past week, with the articles from _the Guardian_ being published, our priest seems to prefer the idea of her returning. Now _say_ that the third part of the diary "proves" she didn't do it. In case she's dead, we'll all say: oh how horrible that we were tricked to think she was guilty. You know Andre, if we _were_ tricked, we were tricked by master con-artists and that's bloody good luck.´

´What on earth is lucky about that?´ I demanded to know.

´Even MPs and judges could be fooled! We will say our mea culpas, someone will write her biography, praising her to the skies, and that will be it. Now, if she's _alive_, everything changes.´

´How so?´ I asked as if I couldn't figure it out myself.

´Well, before _I_ would say sorry to her face to face, I would need _solid proof_ that she's innocent.´

It sounded like something Mabrey could have said. He probably had.

´You've read the entries from her diaries. It shows that the King and Queen were fond of each other, or do you disagree?´

´One might conclude that they were friends, yes.´

´Her Majesty was falsely accused. What will it take for you to admit that?´

The baron chuckled: ´A murderer.´

His answer made me smirk.

´Has Mabrey told you that he hired a detective to find Her Majesty?´ I asked him.

´Yes but that was months ago.´

´_I_ hired some detectives too.´

My cousin isn't a rocket scientist but he _did_ figure it out.

´Alive?´

´Yes.´

´Jesus!´

The exclamation was followed by some inarticulate mumbling which I choose to ignore.

´Have your detectives found proof of her innocence?´

´Her diaries speak for themselves.´

Regaining confidence Von Troken sighed and called me naive.

´The majority of people think the diaries -´ I started. My cousin interrupted me by saying that he had to go to a meeting. He didn't comment my parting request not to tell anyone what I'd just told him.

After I put the phone down I entered the password for my computer and surfed to genoviandaily dot gv. The present headlines read:

_76 % think Queen was tricked_

_Psychiatrists comment the Queen's diary entries_

_Lewis man of the match_

_Fire in brewery: 1 dead, 5 injured_

_Diary inspires play writer_

_Baron De Guisse will lead committee to investigate Queen's trial_

_Boy band to represent Genovia at Eurovision song festival_

_Minister wants to alter the Animal Protection Act_

_OoOoOoO_

My cousin lives for attention so it didn't take long ere breaking news changed the page:

_"QUEEN FOUND ALIVE!" says baron von Troken_

Messages by phone, fax and e-mail found their way to Triple V for my cousin had stated that my detectives had found the Queen.

Just like the prince everyone seemed to believe that Joe Romero had rescued the Queen and I made no attempt to correct them. Everyone wanted to know where she was and under which circumstances she now lived. I told them that I was told that Her Majesty had seemed to be well, but that I thought it was wise not to reveal too much until _after_ Parliament had spoken on the subject.

Only to the thrilled Prime Minister I spoke in a less superficial way.

´Her Majesty is anxious to go home Sebastian. I spoke to her and I sensed that she isn't confident that it will ever happen.´

´If you speak to her again, please tell her that she _will_ return to Genovia! As its Queen! And tell her that I'm very _very_ happy that she is all right! Please give her my _most respectful_ regards.´

´I will do that. Now, let me tell you something in confidence…´

´Yes?´ he said, sounding anxious.

´Some days ago I told His Royal Highness that my detectives were about to find Her Majesty. Yesterday I told him they'd found her. He then asked me to reveal that she's alive. He feared that with certain people thinking the Queen to be dead, those people wouldn't bother to consider her cause.´

´Too true. And it's only part of the story I'm afraid. _You_ told the baron?´

´Yes I did. What worries me is the fact that I haven't found proof that she was tricked. It will take more than what was published so far to have her proclaimed innocent.´

´_The Guardian_'s source has handed me a copy of tomorrow's entry.´

´She's a smart woman,´ I said.

´You discovered _that_ too? Did _she_ know about the Queen being found?´

´No, I kept that from her. She is a trustworthy woman, but I didn't want her to provoke the prince.´

´What did _he_ have to say to your wonderful news?´

´He immediately inquired after the Queen's wellbeing. He wasn't pleased with the fact that I refuse to reveal her hiding place.´

The Prime Minister hummed.

´I understand. You should have become a diplomat Andre.´

´Her Majesty doesn't need a diplomat. She needs a protector. I will not have her marched into prison or worse.´

´The coming entry will leave no doubt that His Majesty's death devastated her. It moved me deeply. I… She was so… Comforting everyone, being strong. I spoke to her about losing my King and she was so kind, even though _she'd_ lost her husband.´

Motaz cleared his throat.

´Do you know that I've scheduled an extra session of Parliament for tomorrow? Trust me Andre, we will not leave the House without concluding that a horrible mistake was made and without begging Her Majesty to return to her country.´

OoOoOoO

_"QUEEN FOUND ALIVE!" says baron von Troken_

_Princess Amelia: "I'm so glad she's alright!"_

_79 % think Queen was tricked_

_MPs comment the news about the Queen_

_Psychiatrists comment the Queen's diary entries_

_Lewis man of the match_

_Fire in brewery: 1 dead, 5 injured_

_Baron De Guisse will lead committee to investigate Queen's trial_

OoOoOoO

The entrée was a mushroom soup. We talked about horses. The main course consisted of small potatoes, a delicious salad and Swedish meatballs. We talked about the Inca culture. It wasn't until we'd finished desert (yogurt with fruit and a discussion about _Moll Flanders_) that I found the right moment to inform her about the breaking news.

´Darling?´

´Hm?´ she replied, pressing her napkin against her lips.

´Remember what you asked for regarding the situation in Genovia?´

She looked at me wide eyed. I nodded.

´Parliament will discuss your case tomorrow afternoon.´

She slowly lowered the napkin.

´What happened?´

OoOoOoO

We didn't make love that evening, but her resting against my chest was wonderfully intimate in itself. We softly talked.

Not surprisingly Clarisse felt uncomfortable about parts of her diaries being published. It didn't prevent her from being grateful that Charlotte still supported her. She shared her anxieties about the upcoming session of Parliament and I reminded her that she'd promised me not to give up on hope.

´I've never cherished this much hope, not after my dear Joseph was killed. But -´

´No buts,´ I said.

´You know as well as I do and as well as Sebastian does that a diary may be entertaining to read, but when it comes to being proof in a crime case, it's not worth a lot.´

´Tomorrow's session isn't about a crime case. It's about finding the truth.´

´Ha!´

Her exclamation saddened me and I kissed her head, wanting to pass the message that all would be well.

´Parliament did a poor job on truth finding the last time they were set to work. This time an overwhelming majority of the people believe that you were tricked. The MPs will not ignore that. And don't forget what the princes said.´

I briefly bent forward to see her face.

´I knew you would remember,´ I gently teased her as I relished her sweet expression.

´I just want to hug grandma,´ Clarisse softly repeated the quote I'd given her.

She wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. I held her tight and felt her fall asleep.

Before retreating to my suite I went over my plan again: I couldn't find a flaw in it.

...

...

Author's note: the coming chapter will see the Members of Parliament discuss the Queen's case.

PS Reviews will be appreciated.


	18. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

When someone tells another person about a personal tragedy, be it big or small, the other person will most likely share something he or she experienced. When a Queen writes down that arranging a state funeral for her late husband keeps her mind from realising how lonely she feels without him, heaps of widows, widowers and other mourners, old and new alike, will say that they know _just_ what she means.

On the day the King died Clarisse had merely written down: _Rupert is dead._

It wasn't until five days later on that she'd picked up her pen again.

_Every time I walk into the throne room I hope to find it empty. Every time I find four officers sta__n__ding vigil next to their King's coffin. Surrounded by living statues I stare at Rupert's uncharacteri__s__tically solemn face. At regular intervals the horrid humming of the cooling installation breaks the eerily silence._

_After the Prime Minister had announced the King's death it didn't take long ere mourners gathered outside the Castle's gates. Everything was reading to coffin the King but I forbade it: I didn't want the boys to be confronted with such a harsh image. Instead they saw him lying on his bed, as if he were taking a nap without bothering to take his clothes off –as was his habit. They walked toward him and though they knew that he had passed away, they simultaneously said: ´Papa?´_

_I shivered and recalled how Rupert's hand had fallen to the ground as I'd hugged his dead body to my chest, begging him not to leave me. _

_On the morning he died I was complaining about having to ride sidesaddle and Rupert chuckled, which restored my good humour. I offered to make his speech for him, for he had a hacking cough and he sat as close to the burning fire place as he possible could. That didn't stop him from pulling me into his lap though. After __re__viewing the guard I returned to the stables. Even from over there I heard a gasp coming from the crowd and the next moment I was kneeling by Rupert's side. He'd collapsed, clutching at his chest. When he saw my expression he tried to lighten the mood. ´I think I may have to cancel our date for later,´ he said. He smiled at me but he couldn't hide that he was in pain. His skin was cold and his voice weak: ´I don't think this is going to end well, Clarisse. If s__o__mething happens to me, you've got to carry on, darling. I know you are strong as steel under all those ridiculous skirts.´_

_´If I promise not to complain about the outfits any more, will you promise not to leave me?´ I replied crying. Oh! The stupid things we say when it matters most! __He was struggling to draw breath and talk. I hate myself for not having memorized every single word. I didn't __want__ to listen for his words were words of parting. I urged him to safe his strength. When the ambulance approached, I pulled myself together, hoping that all would be well soon. Rupert would be brought to hospital and he would chuckle about having been sentimental after which he'd inform his doctor that he was ready to go home. What he __said however was that it was too late. His final words were tender. ´You're my best friend. Thank you for forgiving me when you didn't have to. Thank you for sharing your life with me and our sons. I love you, Clarisse…´_

_Hearing Pierre and Philippe sob at the bedside I blinked away the tears that always threaten to fall when I think of Rupert's loving farewell. I kissed and hugged the boys. It felt good to hold their warm bodies for inside I was cold. From the moment I donned my mourning clothes, I had only been a queen. So many people told me about the King: how he'd said this to them and done that for them. Their stories are for real and as I nod and say something to make them feel better, I tell myself that Rupert wasn't just a father and a friend, but that he was a leader and an employer and that in all those qualities he had an impact on people's lives. They miss him, they mourn for him and that is something to be grateful for. I try to comfort them as best as I can. I often feel erased and I cherish the few people who realise that __I__ am grieving for a man who was more than a King to me._

The diary continued with Clarisse's relief at seeing her sons as close as ever and with her impressions of the entombment. She'd looked sad on the day of the funeral, but she'd been a pillar of strength to every mourning Genovian. From her diary people learned that while the Archbishop delivered the funeral oration the Queen had recalled her first meeting with her future husband. _Now_ the world knew that while the Queen had descended the stairs to the crypt, arm in arm with her sons, she'd thought about how the King had winked at her at their wedding day, and how that had helped her to relax. Standing in front of his resting-place she thought about his joy when she'd told him she was pregnant. She thought about how his infidelity had hurt her. She thought about how she would miss her dearest and closest friend. But despite her own pain, she'd hugged her boys, telling them to make their father proud and reminding them how much he'd loved them.

OoOoOoO

My sister told me that she'd needed a handkerchief after reading the concluding part of the Queen's diaries.

´You know what I loved most?´ Valerie asked. ´The part of how she didn't cry until a week after the funeral, when she went to the King's bedroom to hug his pillow. It was _so_ sad.´

´Have you spoken to your friends yet? What did they have to say about it?´

´Bernice thought it was touching. And everyone now agrees that she didn't do it. But I must say Andre, they feel bad for _me_ because you kept the big news to yourself,´ my sister complained. It comforted her a little to hear me say that even the Prime Minister had been unaware that the Queen had been found.

´I spoke to _Mrs_ Motaz yesterday,´ Val said, ´She said that today's session of Parliament will decide Genovia's future. Do you agree Andy?´

´Parliament sentenced Her Majesty to death. Parliament has to announce that they were wrong in even _thinking_ the Queen to be guilty. It is the only proper thing to do.´

´It will be a piece of cake,´ my sister said.

Val never had any sense for politics. Politicians don't care for what is proper. They care for power. Power derives from the people. The people now sympathized with the Queen. Power was based on supporting the Queen.

OoOoOoO

It was not without anxiety that I tuned in to Genovia's news transmitter: fearing that any interference of mine with MPs would cause Clarisse's case more harm than good, I had carefully kept my fingers out of the pie.

Naturally I'd been thinking about what Motaz might do. _Trust me Andre, we will not leave the Ho__u__se without concluding that a horrible mistake was made and without begging Her Majesty to return to her country._

His promise implied swift action so waiting for the De Guisse investigation to be concluded wasn't something Motaz would want. By now 87 % of the Genovians believed that the Queen had been tricked and surely the Prime Minister would use that to his advantage. Motaz was a jurist however so he wouldn't merely play on sentiments.

Clarisse was to join me to listen to the live broadcast but I'd neglected to tell her about Radio 1's program _prior_ to Parliament's session. First a police profiler shared his opinion on the diary entries.

Radio 1's host

_If you had been put on the case and you'd had access to the diaries, would you, from reading them, conclude that the writer was the murderer?_

Profiler

_People are often killed by a relative or a friend. It is logical for the police to seek in the family circle first, especially when someone, a neighbor for instance, says that he or she heard the victim and for instance his wife, argue._

The police were covering up.

Profiler

_I'm a psychiatrist and it is my opinion that the diaries were written by someone who is putting other people's needs above her own. They were written by someone whose grief for her late hu__s__band was pure. My professional conclusion as a profiler is that the diaries were _not_ written by the murderer. _

Covering up and _making_ up as well. Hopefully the politicians would be all ears.

A professor of laws joined in. The host asked her what the government's plan of approach would be. The professor explained that – with no murderer caught – there was only one option: the Prime Minister would use the diaries to have article twenty-three of the constitution executed. In a lengthy line the professor explained that the article could be used to change a judges' verdict and diminish a punishment.

Radio 1's host

_So it's a pardon article. Can Parliament use it to declare the Queen innocent professor?_

The professor sighed.

Professor

_A judge will never say someone is innocent. It's a concept unknown to jurists. Laymen think that when someone is discharged, and article twenty-three may discharge someone, he or she is pr__o__claimed innocent. That is a mistake though. When someone is discharged during a trial, it usually means that no evidence was found to prove that the suspect committed the crime he or she was charged with._

A knock on the door.

´Yes,´ I called out. The sound of high heels came closer. I pushed against the door of my office so it would open.

´You can enter my suite as if it were your own darling.´

Professor

_- nal opinion, based on a study of the trial, that there was no ground to arrest the Queen._

Clarisse stood still in the door opening to my office. Being a private person herself she had never entered my office. It suited me just fine.

´The reception is good,´ I said.

Clarisse wasn't listening to me.

Professor

_- diary strengthens me in my opinion, though I'd like to stress that even without it I do not doubt that the trial should not have taken place._

´Is she a jurist?´ Clarisse wanted to know. She sounded tense.

I nodded.

´It will start in a few minutes. This is an introduction.´

I gestured toward the sitting area. After pushing some knobs the sound of the radio was transferred to the speakers in my suite. I seated myself next to Clarisse, who folded her hands in her lap.

A reporter was questioning passers-by.

Reporter

_Do you think the Queen's innocent?_

Woman

_Yeah. People ain't lying in their diaries, now do they? Yeah, she must be innocent._

Man

_Parliament will just have to get her back and all will be just as it was before._

Radio 1's host

_Now ladies and gentlemen, Prince Pierre and the Prime Minister have just entered the House of Parliament. We will bring you a live report of what is to come._

Clarisse inhaled audibly and reached out for my hand.

Prime Minister

_Mr Chairman, Members of Parliament, Your Excellencies. This extraordinary session is called upon to discuss a topic we have long remained silent about._

MPs were coughing. The Prime Minister solemnly continued.

Prime Minister

_The position of Her Majesty the Queen needs our attention._

Motaz summarized what had happened, delicately emphasizing how feeble the evidence at the root of the trial had been.

Prime Minister

_I was shocked to hear the court's verdict._

´That's good, he doesn't use the word _guilty_,´ Clarisse whispered.

Prime Minister

_She would have been executed. She was rescued._

´He doesn't mention Parliament's part. That is wise. For now,´ Clarisse commented through Motaz's speech.

Prime Minister

_- that Genovia is grateful for her escape as well. During the past weeks people stood up for Her Majesty. They remembered, and they reminded others, that our Queen was kind and affectionate and that she dearly loved her country. His Royal Highness's decision to investigate the Queen's trial has met with nationwide approval._

Silence.

´He's giving them a glare now,´ Clarisse said, pressing my hand.

´He learned that from you,´ I said with a smile.

She was too nervous to return it.

Prime Minister

_Since then parts of Her Majesty's diary were published. No one in their right mind will read those entries and say anything but: "She is innocent"._

Cheers in the background.

Clarisse swallowed hard.

Chairman of Parliament

_Ladies and gentlemen in the gallery, please be silent._

Prime Minister

_She. Is. Innocent._

The gallery cheered even louder than the first time.

Clarisse stared at the radio's speaker.

Prime Minister

_Let us welcome her back! His Royal Highness and the Cabinet ask the House of Parliament to put into operation article twenty-three of the constitution._

Chairman of Parliament

_Thank you Prime Minister. I have received your proposal. Parliament will consider it. This special meeting of Parliament is adjourned for twenty minutes._

Clarisse exhaled. ´He doesn't let the grass grow under their feet.´

Her voice was higher than usual.

The host in the studio took over again. I called for tea.

Radio 1's host

_With me also is Mr Gonzalez, the political commentator of the Pyrus Paper. Welcome Mr Gonzalez. We all listened to the first part of the session. Does prince Pierre's pr__esence__ signify something?_

Mr Gonzalez

_His presence will surely have an impact on the MPs. My sources told me that it seemed that the prince, like many people, couldn't find a way to conclude the accusations to be false. Of course I can't say how the prince has _really_ felt all these months._

I felt Clarisse eye me.

´No you can't indeed,´ I commented Gonzalez.

Clarisse relaxed a little.

Mr Gonzalez

_The prince's presence today makes it clear that he supports the Prime Minister's "She's innocent"._

´Indeed!´ I said.

The host asked Mr Gonzalez whether he thought that the selections from the diary were chosen by the prince. The journalist believed it to be likely.

´Oh, I wish they would move on!´ Clarisse exclaimed, checking her watch. She started pacing the room and she continued to do so when Leclerc entered. The handles of his tray proved to be moist.

Radio 1's host

_What else can you tell us about this extraordinary session Mr Gonzalez? _

Mr Gonzalez

_Well, what's interesting is that after the first diary entry was published there was already a rumor that the Prime Minister planned to use article twenty-three. At that time it meant that the gover__n__ment above all wanted to clear the Queen's character._

Radio 1's host

_Don't they still?_

Mr Gonzalez

_Of course. But after baron von Troken's revelation it's no longer just about clearing her name, it's about welcoming her back and that's –_

Radio 1's host

_I'm sorry Mr Gonzalez, my producer is gesturing that we are returning to the House of Parliament._

Clarisse turned around, grabbing her wrist. I hadn't seen her do that in months.

´Will that be all sir?´ Leclerc whispered.

I nodded and after inclining his head for his Queen, who forced herself to smile in return, my butler left, no doubt hurrying to his own radio.

Chairman of Parliament

_Gentlemen. The government asked you to put into operation article twenty-three of the constitut__i__on. Have you all read the proposition? Please raise your hands._

Faint noises.

Chairman of Parliament

_Thank you. Mr secretary please take note that all Members of Parliament have read the propos__i__tion. Would the party leaders like to comment the proposition before we vote?_

Mumbling.

Chairman of Parliament

_Mr Valet._

Clarisse looked at me questioningly.

´An outsider who became leader of the Green Party two months ago,´ I explained.

Mr Valet

_Mr Chairman. Members of Parliament. The Green Party votes in favour of the proposal._

Applause.

Clarisse swallowed hard. Not taking her eyes of the radio's speaker, she seated herself next to me.

Chairman of Parliament

_Ladies and gentlemen on the gallery, please be quiet. Mr Cadalso._

Mr Cadalso

_Prime Minister, like every Genovian I read the diary entries. I find it hard to believe that its writer is a murderer. Still, can a diary serve as proof? We have to take into account that our King was killed. _

At ´can a diary serve as proof?´ the gallery had started to protest but Cadalso's last words silenced them.

Mr Valet

_Our Queen was convicted because of words, let's pardon her because of words!_

Loud applause.

Politician

_Should we make that mistake again? Prime Minister, wouldn't it be best to wait for the invest__i__gation into the trial to be concluded?_

Prime Minister

_Mr De Guevedo, you just admitted that a mistake was made when Her Majesty was convicted. The investigation will focus on the juridical aspects of the trial and -_

Mr De Guevedo

_And this gives me reason to worry Prime Minister. The people of Genovia now say that the diaries prove the Queen to be innocent. What if during the investigation into the trial no evidence is found that we were tricked, then the people might blame the House of Parliament for having pardoned the Queen._

Prime Minister

_That's a big if sir. Right now you're facing a _when_. _When_ you state that you can't accept the prop__o__sal, the people _will_ blame you._

Applause.

Prime Minister

_You see?_

Laughter and applause.

Prime Minister

_We all wonder what went wrong during the trial and before. It seems outrageous that our Queen, our kind, wise and caring Queen Clarisse, was arrested. The investigation will show how it could have happened. The investigation is not intended to find evidence of guilt or innocence. As you will recall Her Majesty has always stated that she was innocent. With the shock of learning that the King was killed having faded away, her writings now succeeded where her words failed to have an impact._

Politician

_Prime Minister, the Liberal Party agrees with Mr Cadalso: after reading her diaries it seems hard to believe that the Queen is a murderer. I would like you to consider what is best for our country and its beloved monarchy though. _If_ Parliament supports your proposal, what will your next step be? Have you thought about that?_

Prime Minister

_I certainly have Mr Tardieu. I will call Lord Sadique and ask him to contact Her Majesty for me. I will then welcome her back to Genovia where she belongs._

Long lasting applause from the gallery.

´He should _beg_ you to return,´ I softly said.

´No, _Parliament_ should,´ Clarisse replied. ´But the more those idiots are reminded of what they've done, the less likely they will be to accept the pardon.´

I entwined my fingers with hers.

Mr Cadalso

_It is unsettling to think that had Her Majesty offered the prosecution her dairies at the start of the affair, there probably wouldn't have been a trial. _

Prime Minister

_Does this mean that the Conservatives accept the diaries for evidence Mr Cadalso?_

Cheers.

Clarisse shook her head. She hadn't touched her tea.

´It means that he's putting the blame on me,´ she said.

I replayed Cadalso's line. My Queen might be right.

´Nonsense,´ I said, ´It's his way to admit that he was in the wrong.´

Mr Cadalso still hadn't replied, and when he spoke again his voice entered the microphone from a distance.

Mr Cadalso

_Party members. What say you? Should we allow the diaries as evidence that the Queen is inn__o__cent?_

From the gallery came supportive sounds which soon changed into applause.

´They're raising their hands,´ I said, putting my arm around Clarisse's shoulders.

She made a throatily sound.

Chairman of Parliament

_Silence please! Ladies and gentlemen, please be silent._

Mr Cadalso

_Prime Minister, the Conservative party supports the government's proposal._

Clarisse tilted her head. Through the cheers from the gallery the Prime Minister spoke.

Prime Minister

_Mr Tardieu, Mr De Quevedo. The Green Party votes in favour of the proposal. The Conservative Party votes in favour of the proposal. What say you?_

Clarisse leaned against me. I held her tight.

Mr Tardieu

_Prime Minister, in case new evidence is found, will the pardon you now ask for prevent a new i__n__vestigation?_

Prime Minister

_No it will not._

Mr Tardieu

_The Liberal Party will then support the proposal._

Applause. The leader of the Socialist Party cleared his throat. It became silent again.

Mr De Quevedo

_The Socialist Party supports the proposal._

Thunderous applause. The Chairman of Parliament started speaking several times, only to stop because the noise was too loud.

Clarisse was crying in my arms.

At last the Chairman overcame the cheering.

Chairman of Parliament

_Her Majesty is pardoned._

More cheering, which was cut off halfway.

Radio 1's host

_Ladies and gentlemen, we are back in the studio! With me is the political commentator of the Pyrus Paper. Mr Gonzalez, you've listened atten-_

Using my remote control I shut down the radio without letting go of my Queen. I soothingly caressed her back.

´Sh my sweet, you'll soon be home.´

...

...

Author's note: In the coming chapter a visitor will board Triple V.

PS Reviews will be appreciated.


	19. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

The sea was calm. Mr Motaz, who was about to arrive aboard Triple V, wouldn't have gotten airsick.

´You _will_ immediately tell him that I'm aboard, won't you Andre? I don't want him to be startled when he walks into the room,´ Clarisse asked me as I rose to meet Motaz.

I nodded and smiled at her. We'd talked about the subject before. Her eyes drifted from my face to various electronic devices to a painting by Helmantel that graced a wall. She had opted to receive her PM in a conference room.

´He'll be thrilled to see you my dear. You don't need to be nervous.´

Last night she'd whispered against my chest that she wouldn't be surprised if the MPs had something up their sleeves. She'd also said that her supporters and especially her son and granddaughter might not like it that they'd not been informed about her whereabouts. She didn't mean to reproach me: she simply voiced a worry that had never left her. She'd sounded insecure whereas a few hours earlier on when we and the crew had celebrated Parliament's decision she'd been the radiant centre of the party.

Despite her anxieties she longed for her country. It was the most natural thing in the world, but a little voice inside my head couldn't stop nagging that Clarisse was ready and willing to leave me. Had she contradicted me when I'd suggested that it would be best if we didn't yet show the world that we were a couple? No. Had she agreed with my idea to sail to Genovia? No. She planned to _fly_ to Genovia today. Today! We would be separated within hours but she had other things on her mind.

´You'll soon be home,´ I told her, ´I'll go and get you Sebastian Motaz.´

Feeling oddly lost, I turned in the doorway to look at her. My passionate lover was a perfect picture of regal elegance.

´Andre,´ she cried out, as if thinking I'd left already. Our eyes linked.

´I love you,´ she said.

We were a couple.

OoOoOoO

I awaited Motaz as he got out of the helicopter.

´Prime Minister!´

´Lord Sadique.´

´Welcome aboard.´

We shook hands, both very aware of the moment.

´This whole ordeal is almost done with. Thank you for finding Her Majesty.´

I nodded and smiled and gestured him to follow me. I inquired after his journey. He made me a compliment on my yacht. My offer to bring him to a cabin so he could freshen up was declined.

´Have you wondered why I asked you to come all the way here just so you could call Her Majesty?´ I asked him next.

´I would gladly travel the world to be able to talk to her. But during the trip it suddenly occurred to me that you might somehow have brought her here already.´

I gave him a look. He shook his head to let me know that his idea had been a silly one.

´Joe Romero, may he rest in peace, didn't rescue Her Majesty,´ I said.

´Then who-´

Realisation dawned on his face. He stopped walking and so did I.

´You! Good Lord! Has she been here …´

´All along yes.´

´Good Lord,´ Motaz repeated, loosening his tie.

´On our way to see her, let me tell you what happened.´

The Prime Minister nodded, incapable of another reply. I gestured him to come along and he made himself move.

´Just like you I was shocked when she was arrested. I knew Joe was fighting for her but I feared that he wouldn't find out in time who _had_ killed His Majesty. What if Parliament sent her to prison? My initial plan was to have her kidnapped before she would be jailed.´

I'd spoken slowly and in a deep voice to make sure that Motaz heard me. His reply proved that I'd reached him.

´What they had in mind for her was worse,´ he said. We were halfway a staircase and he stopped ascending it for a moment. After inhaling deeply he added: ´Thank God you could improvise.´

I shrugged. ´I'm wealthy. I could hire the best to plan her kidnap.´

´And that's what you _did_.´

We'd reached the next floor and Motaz stopped to grasp my hand. ´Thank you Andre. Thank you!´

´There's something I _didn't_ do,´ I said.

I cleared my throat. ´I didn't inform you. Or anyone for that matter.´

Motaz eyed me thoughtfully.

´You must have had your reasons,´ he slowly said.

I nodded eagerly. ´I wanted her to be safe. Perhaps I was overprotective: for months the only person aboard who knew about the Queen's presence was my butler.´

Motaz's expression showed surprise.

´Her Majesty has repeatedly asked me to inform her bodyguard, her son or you yourself about her whereabouts. I thought it best not to do so. I feared Joe would be closely watched by the police. Your political position seemed feeble, and I didn't want to make it any worse. As for the prince…´

I didn't finish my line, but Motaz got my point.

´She hoped her supporters would reason that her bodyguard had kidnapped her and that Joe himself would understand that she was rescued by someone who didn't meant her harm. After Joe's death she knew that her supporters would fear for her and it pained her very much. I felt for her but no matter her pleas, I didn't change my mind.´

Motaz processed the information I'd given him. I started walking again and he followed me.

´You kept telling me that Joe would have made sure the Queen would be all right.´

I nodded, glad he remembered. ´I'm sorry I couldn't do more.´

´I didn't get it,´ Motaz softly said.

How many politicians would have sounded self-reproaching at admitting that? Motaz was a wonderful opposite number.

´Her Majesty is waiting in the conference room at the end of this corridor.´

Motaz inhaled and adjusted his tie.

OoOoOoO

The Prime Minister shed a tear when he greeted his Queen. Clarisse was deeply moved but she didn't cry.

Watching them embrace each other I wondered how this moment would go down in history. Clarisse thanked Motaz for his support. The Prime Minister told her that not a day had gone by when he hadn't thought of her. Clarisse blushed.

´Do you now feel that you worried too much?´

Both Motaz and I were taken by surprise by her bold question. Given a shot of pentothal the politician might have said yes: anxious though he'd been to see his Queen, the luxurious interior of my yacht hadn't escaped him, and nor did Her Majesty's appearance. Fortunately Motaz was a fairly good actor. He shook his head, slowly and deliberately.

´I worried, of course I did ma'am, even more so when Mr Romero died.´

Clarisse swallowed hard.

´Lord Sadique told me that you asked him to inform your supporters that you were safe. He also explained why he felt that would not be wise. I worried, true, but I'm grateful that you were _here_ Your Majesty and not all alone in a basement.´

Clarisse was visibly relieved by Motaz's words. A knock on the door made her refrain from replying. The butler entered carrying a tray. It was Friday meaning homemade chocolate muffin day but by request of my attentive Clarisse Leclerc served us Motaz's favourite trademark shortbread. After the exchange I'd just witnessed it occurred to me that the absence of muffins might have something to do with worrying too much. For how long had my darling been afraid that people would feel that they'd worried too much? Always sensitive to other people's feelings, she hadn't talked about this with _me_, the provider of her comfortable hiding place. How could she even think that anyone would blame her for not having spent her exile in a basement?

´Lord Sadique's sister is named Valerie,´ I heard Clarisse say, ´His nephews are called Vincent and Valentin.´

They were talking about the name of my ship. Val had been the first to guess I'd named it after her and her sons.

The butler was almost done serving tea and coffee.

´Thank you. You may leave,´ I told him.

Out of respect for his Queen, Leclerc usually acted as if he were _her_ butler rather than mine. I hadn't minded at all, but we had an audience now and Motaz would know that a question like _Will that be all ma'am? _was normally directed at the lady of the manor. I didn't want him to get any ideas in his head.

After the butler had left the Queen remarked: ´I've listened to the live reporting of the "pardon session" Sebastian. You've played them well.´

Pleased with the compliment the Prime Minister inclined his head.

´Were you surprised when Mr Tardieu asked you whether or not a pardon would prevent a new investigation?´

´I'd hoped him to be without reserves, but he _is_ a jurist Your Majesty, ´ Motaz said, adding a smile.

´He's a _politician_ and he hinted that perhaps I might not be innocent after all.´

´Ma'am,´ I quickly said, ´You are innocent. No one could say otherwise. Let Tardieu feel that he got something out of it, it will not harm you.´

´Lord Sadique is right,´ Motaz contributed. ´Tell me ma'am: have you thought of a plan for your return to Genovia?´

Obviously she had.

´I want to fly home as soon as possible. Today.´

Motaz nodded agreeably and suggested Her Majesty to _sail_ home so preparations could be made to welcome her back.

Clarisse smiled at him and at me. She said that she didn't need twenty brass bands and people holding balloons and waving flags to await her. The politician countered that after what had happened the world needed to know that she was welcomed back without reserve and that an official touch was of vital importance. The Queen told her Prime Minister what she and I had come up with regarding the journey home: she would call her son and granddaughter, as well as Charlotte and the Archbishop of Pyrus, and inform them about her hiding place. I would issue a statement to the press followed by a video conference. The three of us would board Genovia One and fly home. At Pyrus airport the prince, the acting commander of the army and the Chairman of Parliament would await our arrival.

´There's the official touch you see Sebastian? I will say a few words to the assembled press and then we'll ride to the Castle.´

´Her Majesty and I worked out the details, including my statement,´ I said after a moment.

I handed Motaz a sheet of paper containing my press statement. He started reading. Clarisse picked up her tea and tried not to look at her Prime Minister. She told me that it might be wise for me to contact my sister before alerting the press. I agreed that it would be and I chatted along, picturing the warm welcome my Queen would receive. How Maurice would wag his tail! From the way Motaz fingered his cigar-case, which he'd taken out of his pocket along with his glasses, I concluded that he was listening to us. My Queen inquired as to what else the papers had said this morning. I'd already told her that all papers had applauded Parliament's decision. I now added that the nation anticipated her to return home. Motaz joined in.

´It will be some hours ere you can contact the princes Your Majesty,´ he said, checking his watch.

´I know,´ Clarisse replied, ´I'm counting off time.´

´After the pardon session she called me to say how happy she was,´ Motaz said.

´Sweet Amelia! I hope she will soon be able to come to Genovia. If not I will travel to San Francisco. I'm sure my son will accompany me.´

´Several MPs have expressed their appreciation for the way the prince has coped with the calling to become a regent.´

The smile of the prince's mother faded.

´Do you think they want to dump me?´

´They were simply being kind,´ I quickly said. ´Please don't do this to yourself.´

Motaz, confused, looked from me to his Queen and back again.

´Her Majesty feels that the Members of Parliament are up to something,´ I said before Clarisse could speak.

´Ma'am, if they _were_, they wouldn't have granted the pardon.´

Clarisse shook her head and Motaz quickly continued: ´Please don't worry about Parliament Your Majesty.´

Unnoticed by Clarisse, who stared at her cup of tea, Motaz eyed me.

´Would you care to smoke Prime Minister? I could bring you outdoors if you like?´

Motaz asked his Queen whether she would mind and she kindly excused us. As I closed the door behind me Clarisse picked up the press statement to read it for the hundredth time.

OoOoOoO

Sea-gulls were screaming nearby. I focused on what Motaz had to say.

´I very much doubt that Her Majesty will have to worry about Parliament. You see Andre, there's a rumour. A journalist, Daladier - some twenty years ago he published a series about Saint Jerome, do you remember that?´

I shrugged. Motaz took a whiff of his cigar.

´It was about fraud within a catholic institution. Rome was furious but Daladier turned out to be right. For the past years he was known more for his drinking habits than for his writings. However, there's a buzz in Pyrus saying that he's about to uncover a setup involving the evidence. I'm sure it will prove her innocent once and for all.´

I looked at him wide eyed. ´That's wonderful! How long before Daladier finishes his investigation? And why didn't you tell Her Majesty about it?´ I said in an exited tone of voice.

´I don't know how long it will take him. The government can't push things. It will seem as if we influence the investigation. That's why I think it's best not to tell Her Majesty. She will not have to worry that Parliament will hold the unsolved murder against her,´ Motaz said.

My thoughts exactly. Motaz didn't know that Daladier's investigation had been triggered by a remark of his drinking buddy Marc aka _Mr Kobayashi_. It involved the computers of the National Bureau of Autopsy where the late King's remains had been examined. Daladier may not know it yet but the nerds he'd hired to help him investigate would uncover that the data that had been entered after the autopsy on the King's remains had been accessed by a hacker, who'd made alterations, making the coroner conclude that Rupert Renaldi had been killed.

I had toyed with several ideas regarding the _why _before concluding that simplicity was best. The hacker had therefore not been hired by some criminal meaning harm to the Queen. He had acted on his own. I liked the elegance of it: first of all because about the only thing that had been real during the trial had been the coroner's results. Secondly because people distrust computers and the unworldly brilliant loners who control them. Thirdly because no one would be surprised that the ruthless hacker hadn't left a trace. The snidely comment he had entered in the software made clear why he'd done what he'd done. He hadn't hated the Queen. He hadn't wanted to bring down the monarchy. He'd done what he'd done _simply because he could_. People would conclude that the hacker had written the King's letter.

The story _Marc_ had told Daladier was simple. He'd been using a toilet in a men's room. Two men were talking about a party where some nerd had eaten several slices of space cake. It had made him start singing, after which he'd boasted about having broken into a computer in Deneuve crescent about eight months ago. The peeing men had figured that only hacking an FBI server would be memorable and they failed to see why the nerd had announced himself to be the greatest hacker alive for breaking into Tom, Dick or Harry's pc. Marc forgot about this until a couple of weeks later when he travelled through Deneuve crescent and noticed that the National Bureau of Autopsy was housed there. And what had happened over eight months earlier on? Exactly.

´Does she know about the De Guisse investigation?´ Motaz asked me.

´Yes she does.´

´Good.´

He took another whiff of his cigar.

´I wish she would allow for some time until her return.´

´Why?´

Motaz cleared his throat.

´On her way from Pyrus Airport to the Castle she'll drive by the King Rupert hospital. I mean …´

´On the Einstein avenue? But that's the Queen Cla– Oh.´

´See what I mean? Do you remember that I told you about a statue of the Queen that had been torn down?´

I nodded.

´It's still gone. If she arrives today…´

´She won't notice a missing statue and the joy of her people when they see her is what _will_ matter to her.´

´_They _got rid ofhe statue,´ Motaz softly said.

´_They_ are the ones who urged Parliament to accept your proposal Sebastian.´

Gothgirl, SuperDude and the others who'd cried out that the Queen was guilty would most likely turn into devoted supporters if my cook was a reliable gauge.

´Her Majesty's convinced that once she's out of hiding, her people will want her to return to Genovia immediately. She longs to go home,´ I said.

The Prime Minister thought it over. Twice I thought he was going to speak. At last he nodded.

´It will be nearly dark by the time she arrives,´ he said. He put out his cigar and placed it in its case.

´I hope she'll understand,´ he added.

I nodded reassuringly. Just like myself my Queen was too intelligent to see merely her own point of view. _She_ also sought other people's lines of approach out of the goodness of her heart. If her subjects and Parliament would admit that they had been mistaken, and if they would set things right, Clarisse would not mind a missing statue.


	20. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

My press statement ended by inviting the media to the De Mouy hotel in Pyrus to participate in a video conference where I would answer their questions. In the five quarters of an hour between the statement and the conference Motaz, Clarisse and I had lunch.

At first the three of us paid more attention to the broadcast on the radio than to our meal.

Mr Valet

_The Green Party is grateful that Her Majesty is all right and that she will be home in mere hours._

Clarisse tried a smile to match the expressions of her company. I reduced the volume of the radio.

´What is it Clarisse?´

´The others -´

She had to clear her throat. ´The others will mock him for saying _all right_.´

Motaz looked from his Queen to me.

´You think I'm being pessimistic don't you Sebastian?´

´If I may, yes ma'am,´ Motaz kindly said. He took her right hand and bent to kiss it.

´This _green_ politician, who was not there when Parliament decided that I should be executed, is the only one so far who commented Andre's statement.´

´Ma'am, they know they made a mistake. And that's an understatement. They need to find words to express themselves.´

´They've known for days now that I was found. Pierre -´

Rather than finishing her line she took a sip of her tea.

Neither myself nor Motaz had been present when the Queen had talked to the four people she wanted to inform about her whereabouts before the whole world would find out. Not wanting to startle them she had asked her Prime Minister to make the connections. After calling the prince Motaz had handed the phone to me and I'd given him the Pierre-version of my _why I told no one_ story. When Motaz had returned to the corridor after calling the princes, he'd told me about the girl's happy cry as she'd greeted her grandmother.

I opened my mouth to remind Clarisse about her granddaughter's enthusiasm, when she finished her line: ´Pierre said that it was a good thing that I'd been aboard a yacht. He reasoned that it was _compensation_!´

I couldn't help but think how sensual that word sounded coming from her lips. Motaz held his breath, leaving it to me to comment Pierre's insensitive remark. I was too late for that though.

´And not a word about being happy that I hadn't spent all these months in a cold shed.´

She put down her cup. Her hand was shaking.

´Sebastian.´

The Prime Minister anxiously looked at his liege.

´Parliament wronged me. I will _not_ have them say all's well that ends well and be done with it.´

Motaz shook his head. ´Your Majesty, Parliament will not wrong you again. Princes Amelia was very happy to talk to you wasn't she?´

The Queen didn't reply. A commercial broke the silence.

Voice

_The people from Regouin_'_s flags and banners know just what you need to welcome someone home: __our tricolour! For sale at supermarkets nationwide!_

´Genovia is preparing you a joyous welcome,´ I predicted.

Clarisse bit her lower lip. She glanced from her Prime Minister to me. I willed my confidence to influence her and I was relieved to see the change in her.

´I shouldn't ruin this day by worrying, should I?´

She reached out to place her hand on Motaz's arm. When he realised that her question was a rhetorical one, he relaxed.

´If my seventeen year old granddaughter is understanding and looks forward to seeing me, well, I will just have to assume that more people will reason like she does.´

´What did she say?´ I asked.

´She believed Joseph to have rescued me and she'd thought of ways to make him talk about it, had he contacted her. In the end she realised that Joseph would never reveal my hiding place, not even to her.´

Motaz grinned in fond memory of the late bodyguard. To honour Romero I solemnly nodded.

´And in a heartbeat Amelia reasoned that _you_ wouldn't have done so either Andre. Especially since you don't know her.´

Motaz said something nice about the girl and I used the opportunity to excuse myself in order to prepare for the press conference.

OoOoOoO

At Pyrus airport the Queen planned to tell the media how happy she was to be home again and how glad she felt that her people realised she was innocent. She would then walk along, shielded by Motaz and myself.

It had been Clarisse's idea that _I_ should satisfy the curiosity of the press by talking to them _before_ our arrival in Genovia. I had readily agreed to do as she'd suggested. Not only would I fulfil her every wish from now on; it seemed fitting that I should have a speaking part in the final scene.

I had not told Clarisse that I had the hotel's public relations manager ask the journalists to write down questions for the video conference. In the privacy of my office I made a selection. I vetoed several questions that might make Clarisse feel she was right in thinking that her luxurious hiding place would alienate people.

OoOoOoO

In the conference room on Triple V only Motaz and myself were present but the dining room of the De Mouy was crowded with members of the writing press. The hotel's PR manager, closely following my instructions, gestured to this or that journalist to indicate who could question me.

Journalist from Paris Match

_Will the Queen join the conference sir?_

Lord Sadique

_Her Majesty looks forward to meeting the press in person._

Journalist from radio 1

_How is the Queen doing sir?_

Lord Sadique

_The support of her people has made Her Majesty very happy. I'm awed at the strength she showed these past months. I can only guess how she must have felt._

Journalist from The Times

_When have you informed the government about Her Majesty's hiding place?_

Lord Sadique

_Yesterday I invited the Prime Minister over. I told him that I would set up a connection so we could talk to Her Majesty. It wasn't until _after_ I'd welcomed him tha__t I told him that __t__he __Queen __was here._

Journalist from Frankfurter Algemeine

_Have you informed anyone at all __Your Lo__rdship?_

Lord Sadique

_The Queen has asked me numerous times to inform her son, her Prime Minister or her Head of Security about her whereabouts. I refused to do so, for __I wanted to protect her. I even believed it was best to pretend to be worried for the Queen's safety myself in my dealings with friends and even with family. I hope that they will not feel fooled, for that was never my intention. I acted the way I did to p__rotect the Queen._

I accompanied my words by a plaintive yet charming look in the camera.

Valerie had, after calling me 'Andre' twice, exclaimed how very proud she was of me. From my critical audience at the De Mouy I earned supportive mumbling.

Journalist from the Pyran Courier

_What can you tell us about the day Her Majesty was brought to your yacht sir?_

Lord Sadique

_The men whom I'd hired to plan the Queen's rescue didn't give me their __social security numbers -_

The journalists laughed.

Lord Sadique

_- so I can't really say who they were and how they'd managed to rescue the Queen._

I had told Clarisse a little bit about the rescue mission and perhaps in time I might share the same information with a journalist. Then again: it was fine with me if some director would shoot an action film about the Queen's escape and make things up. The public would grow to believe the fantasy.

One question followed the other and with me pretending to have to think of an answer once or twice it seemed like a spontaneous session.

I saved the best answer for last.

Journalist from Genovian Daily

_How did Her Majesty respond to Parliament's decision to pard__on her?_

Lord Sadique

_We listened to the live broadcast together. When it was clear that Parliament realised that she was innocent, I myself couldn't stop smiling. Our Queen was crying though._

I swallowed hard.

Lord Sadique

_Ladies and gentleman, it is time for the Prime Minister and myself to escort Her Majesty home. Thank you._

Applause.

OoOoOoO

´Bravo Andre! I couldn't have done it better myself!´ the Prime Minister said as after I had signaled that the connection was broken.

I waved away his compliments. ´The conference room is yours to make your calls.´

Motaz nodded. ´There are boats outside.´

I walked to a porthole. A fisherman's boat with a cameraman on it was sailing along with Triple V. There were more boats approaching. It was to be expected. I called Leclerc and told him that once the Prime Minister had made his calls he was to show him the bridge.

´Have you brought Her Majesty a bag yet?´

´Yes sir.´

´I will go and see if she needs assistance.´

OoOoOoO

I knocked on Clarisse's door. The thrill I always felt when doing so was mingled with sadness. If only I were a magician who could control the elements. I'd summon fog to keep my Queen with me for a few hours longer. Hours, days, weeks …

I stepped into her suite and on not seeing her in the sitting room I entered her bedroom. I had to resist the urge to dive unto the bed and bury my nose in her scent. Our scent. I found her in her dressing room. She was putting on the chemise she'd worn when she'd arrived here. Her long gracious legs were bare and apart from a bra and the chemise she was dressed in panties only. She took a garter belt from a Louis XIV chair and fastened it. It was a striptease in reverse.

I stepped toward her. She looked over her shoulder. We didn't speak. For what seemed like a long time we just stared at each other, and though the silence was meaningful I had not pictured our last moment together like this.

´You're going to wear the suit?´

´Yes. It's business like. I'll wear my own shoes.´

She cleared her throat.

´How did the conference go?´

´The Prime Minister made me a compliment, so it must have gone just fine.´

Clarisse smiled nervously.

´I told them that the pardon session made you cry,´ I softly said.

For a moment her expression showed discomfort but she'd been in politics long enough to understand that the public would love to hear about her response. She made a throatily sound and studied some shirts she'd laid out.

I stood there, a bit sheepishly I'd say, but when she, without looking at me, extended a hand toward me, my heart skipped a beat and the next moment I held her without being aware of having walked toward her.

We didn't speak but our lips and tongues did their parts.

With our bodies pressed against each other, my desire soon became evident to her. To my joy she walked backward, gently dragging me with her.

´Are you sure?´ I whispered hungrily when she had her back against a wall.

And then she smiled and it was the luring smile of my lover.

I unzipped, lifted her, shoved aside her panties and slowly entered her.

It was a lovely parting.

OoOoOoO

Clarisse refused to take all her clothes with her and recalling the Friday muffins I didn't insist. Besides, it would be nice to open a closet and smell at a left behind shirt, imagining her scent to have lingered. My beloved cast a parting look in her bathroom, her dressing room and her bedroom. From her sitting room she took her three diaries. To my pleasure she also took the rose I'd made her after our first night together.

´You made this because I missed having flowers?´ she shyly suggested.

´Indeed I did,´ I said. My broad smile made her blush but her eyes twinkled.

She took the pictures from her desk. All but one.

´You can take that one too my dearest.´

´I'll visit the Romeros as soon as I can,´ she thoughtfully said as she put _survival of the fittest _and the other photos between the pages of a journal.

For many weeks now her mentioning his name failed to annoy me.

Clarisse zipped up the bag. She straightened up and her eyes travelled the spacious room. There had been a time when she'd been miserable here, but she'd also laughed and loved in this very suite. My guess was that with her and me stepping into the future together, her fond memories of her life aboard my yacht outweighed the sad ones.

I myself had no memories to make me feel down.

We. Were. A. Couple. I would patiently await the day when we could officially be a pair.

´Are you ready Clarisse?´

She nodded.

´Are you all right my dear?´

´I'm a little apprehensive I suppose.´

She cupped my cheek.

´Andre, I -´

I put a finger on her lips.

´You will go home. You will find your son and your people very happy to see you. The first few days may be a little awkward, but everything will soon settle down. When I visit you in say a week's time, you will gently complain that you have a lame hand from signing documents.´

´You remember that?´

I took her hands in mine and nodded. I could replay entire conversations I'd had with her.

´A week?´ she asked.

I shrugged, making a funny face.

´I love you Andre.´

I missed her already. But a new play was about to start and my part was to love my Queen and be her knight.

´Let me carry that bag my dear.´

OoOoOoO

The Queen said farewell to the crew and somehow her gentle impromptu speech reminded me of _Henry V _for the audience consisted of tough soldiers mostly and they were moved by her words. Afterward Clarisse, Motaz and I went to the hangar to board out of sight of the many eyes watching from the boats surrounding the yacht.

The deck opened itself. The helicopter was lifted. The rotors unfolded. Clarisse exhaled audibly when we took off.

We circled the yacht once. The crew had gathered on deck which made for a great picture. There she lay: Triple V.

The name I'd given her had proved itself prophetic: veni vidi vici.

...

...

Author's notes: Thank you for reading. I very much liked to write this story and I guess you liked it well enough to reach the final chapter. Would you care to leave a review?


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